


Sleeping Beetle

by LadyNorbert



Series: Contractually Obligated Chaos [4]
Category: Beetlejuice (TV 1989), Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fairy Godfather, Fairy Tale Elements, Halloween, Haunted Castle, Married Couple, Photography, Prophecy, The Author Regrets Nothing, Vampire Ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-05-31 09:11:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 38,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6464482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyNorbert/pseuds/LadyNorbert
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia's career gets a major break when a magazine hires her to do an on-location photo essay of a haunted castle in Romania. But when the resident horror tries to take the Ghost With the Most out of the picture, it'll take all her mortal wits to save them both! And just what does the Fairy Godfather know that he's not telling?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Charming Fairy Tale Come True

**Author's Note:**

> I have to tell you, it was a real struggle not to start this before the convention. Actually, I failed completely in that, but I did at least restrain myself from posting anything. I hope you all enjoyed Meteor Shower while you were waiting (and if you didn't read it yet, be sure that you do, because it's plot-relevant to the rest of the series).
> 
> If you were wondering, Zenkaikon was awesome. It always is. :)
> 
> As you probably guessed from the title (or the TV Tropes page), this installment takes its cues from Sleeping Beauty, and the chapter titles are all quotes from the Disney animated film. Although it's kind of a given in the Beetlejuice fandom, I feel somehow compelled to warn you that there's a lot of weird stuff coming. As I mentioned previously, I kind of accidentally invented a mythology for this story, and it's going to start becoming more involved in our heroes' lives. There will be twists and turns and probably some things that the Fairy Godfather hasn't even told ME yet. He knows everything; I don't.
> 
> But first, Halloween.

Lydia was asleep, which was to be expected since it was only around three in the morning. She was curled on her side under the blanket, her black hair spilling like ink across the pillows, and the covers rose and fell with a gentle rhythm. All around the house were the quiet sounds of nightlife in the forest, and every so often this soft natural symphony was punctuated by a tiny, almost musical snore.

Beetlejuice had gotten up for a drink of water, but on his way back to bed he became rather distracted by the sight. Just enough moonlight seeped into the room to render her visible to his supernatural vision, and he leaned against the doorway of the little bedroom, watching her.

By Outerworld reckoning, they had been married for a little over three months. In the Neitherworld, it was closer to five years since they signed the contract. Regardless of which instance could be considered the 'real' wedding, it was a done deal and there was no going back. In his own warped view of things, however, it had been a lot longer than that - though he might not admit it out loud, the truth was that he was actually fairly certain that he'd always been hers. He just hadn't always known it.

As the thought crossed the threshold of his mind, he shook his head with a mixture of disgust and amusement. Man, he _was_ a sap.

"Look at her," he said out loud, to no one at all. His tone was excessively fond. "I would die for her." He paused, as if just realizing something for the first time. "I would _kill_ for her," he admitted. "Either way, what bliss."

"You've been watching the _Addams Family_ movie again, haven't you?" Lydia murmured, not opening her eyes.

He laughed, though he felt a little bad that he'd woken her. "What can I say, Babes? That Gomez is a smooth piece of work. You gotta admire his style."

"Oh, Beej." She yawned, shifting a little under the covers. "Come back to bed. It's too early for you to be quoting movies at me and we've got a big day ahead of us."

"Right, Babes." He moved to reclaim his space next to her. "This'll be the best haunted house they've ever seen in these parts - I bet they talk about it for years to come!"

"Mmhmm. I'm sure they will," she mumbled with what sounded like forced patience. "Now go to sleep."

* * *

The word had come out fairly recently that Miss Shannon's School for Girls was in some financial trouble. There had been a nasty plumbing issue in the building which housed the school library, resulting in the loss of about half the book collection, as well as structural issues. Lydia, being Lydia, had wanted to help her old school get back on its feet, so she'd come up with what Beetlejuice thought was a fairly ingenious plan. They were living quite comfortably on the 1800s farm he'd bought her as a combination birthday/wedding present, and if there was one thing they had to spare, it was _space_.

Her idea, therefore, boiled down to this - they'd turn their front yard into the freakiest freak show possible for Halloween, an even bigger version of the one he'd once helped her build for the school bazaar. They'd charge admission, sell snacks and photo ops with assorted creepy creatures, and donate all the proceeds to Miss Shannon's library fund. Admittedly, he wasn't thrilled with the idea of handing over _all_ the hard-earned dough; but as usual, the wife had her ways of persuading him to do what she wanted.

The whole shebang had been in the planning stages for weeks, and Beetlejuice admired the calm tenacity with which Lydia had tackled all the details. Chuckie's lawyer had been recruited to navigate the legal details, making sure they had all the necessary permits and paperwork, in exchange for putting his law firm on the sign as a sponsor. (Lyds said that was only fair, and while Beetlejuice might not care whether or not they played by the rules, he knew it mattered to her that everything was on the up and up.) One of her contacts at the regional newspaper, someone she'd helped out with a photography thing one time, was making sure the word got out about the shenanigans being planned at the Beetleman farm.

It was going to be a family affair. Chuck had agreed to take care of selling the popcorn and sodas, Lydia would take the photos of guests, and Delia had been recruited to whip up some of her terrifying art for the occasion, which kept her suitably out of the way of the rest of their plans. As for Beetlejuice himself, he was tasked with actually performing the construction of the haunted house ride, and would operate it - in his "BJ" persona, of course - on the days that they ran the production.

He had another task too, however.

The thing that had troubled Lydia the most about the whole project was where they would find a sufficient number of volunteers. To Beetlejuice, the answer had been rather obvious.

"Wifey-Babes," he said, "we can find _all_ the labor you want in the Neitherworld!"

"Are you _crazy_?"

"Possibly, but then here's the riddle... who's crazier, the crazy man or the woman who married him?"

She ignored that. "Beej, do you have any idea how dangerous that could be?"

"Whaaat? I'm not saying we bring _everybody_. Just, you know, a handful. I mean, imagine the little car coming around the bend and suddenly, Ginger drops out of the ceiling and starts dancing! Everybody would freak!" He paused. "Of course, she might start crying if we don't tell her that's the point..."

"So we'd limit it to just our friends?" That seemed to ease her mind a little.

"Mostly. We'd probably need a few more, and I don't exactly have a lot of favors I can call in - but the Princess of Beetles might." He smirked. "I bet ol' Vince would get a real thrill out of dressing up like Count Dracula."

"Well... that's not as crazy an idea as I originally thought," she admitted. "You're right, he probably would enjoy it. And maybe Donny could help my dad with the concessions - he can't do it all by himself, and he seemed to like Donny. But you'll have to promise me that you'll keep an eye on things. If anybody does anything that could create problems, you've got to juice them back right away. Okay?"

"Whatever you say."

"And absolutely _no_ Party People in a Can," she added, and he could tell she was trying not to smile.

"Aw, Babes! You say that like you didn't have fun rounding them all up!"

"Not the point, BJ."

He gave an exaggerated sigh, and adopted his 'husband' voice. "Yes, dear."


	2. The Gracious Whim of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The haunted house is a hit, Prince Vince observes Lydia's family, and an unexpected guest shows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It remains to be seen whether or not this will be finished before the end of April. I will be completely off the grid for the first nine days in May.
> 
> I don't know why Prince Vince wanted to be the narrative character here, but he did, and as you may have noticed from the existence of Meteor Shower, I'm not good at refusing him.
> 
> No, Terricula is not a real magazine. I checked.
> 
> Happy birthday to Clockwork Annie, reader turned beta! This chapter is dedicated to you, in honor of your special day.

To be sure, as Prince of the Neitherworld, Vince had precious little experience with human celebrations of Halloween. However, he had to admit that this was more entertaining than he had ever imagined.

It had come as quite the surprise when Beetlejuice and Lydia presented the whole idea to him. "So it's to be a charity event, and you wish for myself and several others to come and participate?"

"That's pretty much the size of it, yeah. Figure you'd have a blast playing ol' Dracula and swooping down on the visitors, then you can come home and compose some of that poetry of yours about the experience. Should be a treat for your Tumblr nation, eh?" Beetlejuice was already chuckling, presumably at the mental picture.

"Well... I don't know if I'd really do the legends justice. But certainly it sounds like it might be fun to be a part of all of this. Who were you thinking to bring?"

"We figured mostly our friends - you, Donny, and the Roadhouse neighbors," Lydia clarified. "Speaking of which, I wanted to speak to you about that."

"About... what, exactly?"

"The Roadhouse." She grimaced. "According to the terms of Beej's rental agreement, Mr. Crumb is entitled to triple the rent for each additional relative who moves into the house. And seeing as that now includes me..."

Beetlejuice scowled agreeably, which was not something Vince would have thought was an accurate way to describe a facial expression but there was really nothing else for it. "Lousy conniving landlord. He wants me to shell out triple the old rent for a place I don't even use most of the time! And when I pointed that out to him, he said it was a _storage fee_ and I should be glad he doesn't raise it more!"

"We spend most of our days at the house in the Outerworld," Lydia translated. "So we're thinking it would make the most sense to simply give up the Roadhouse for Jacques and Ginger's usage; possibly Donny would be interested in taking over Beetlejuice's share of the property."

Vince nodded, but wondered why this was something they needed to discuss with him. "Oh," he said, the penny suddenly dropping, "and of course when you _do_ come to the Neitherworld, you would make use of your rooms here?"

"That's what I wanted to confirm with you before we made any final decisions, yes."

"My dear Lydia, I made you the Princess of Beetles because of everything you encountered in New Orleans - but I wouldn't dream of rescinding the title. You are my sister, or as good as, and your rooms here remain just as you left them. They're open to the both of you on every visit."

"I thought that might be your answer," she admitted, "but I didn't want to assume. Thanks, Vince."

"Great, now that's all settled," said Beetlejuice, having resumed his usual expression, "whaddya say we get back to figuring out this haunted house?"

* * *

Vince remembered Lydia's father from the wedding. He had noticed that the man never seemed to quite know exactly _how_ to feel at any given moment; his expression was generally some sort of blending of nervousness and cautious pleasantry, which struck the prince as an odd contrast to his confident, cheerful daughter. Having Donny to assist him with concessions seemed to give him some sort of relief, though this was usually shattered any time his wife came in the vicinity.

Lydia's mother - or stepmother, as Beetlejuice had once specified - was a shrill, well-meaning woman who, according to her son-in-law, had a terrible tendency to overrun things. The prince recalled how "BJ" had to escort his bride to the wedding because there was some legitimate concern that, if left to her own devices, she might redecorate their house or something equally intrusive. Whenever she ventured near the concessions stand, he observed, she would shriek some new delight at her husband. "Oh, _Charles_! The most _darling_  little ghosties and goblins are here!" " _Chaaarles_! I've just had a _wonderful_ idea for my next art project!" "Charles! I'm so excited! The newspaper sent a photographer and he's looking at _my_ sculptures!" Vince marveled that the man hadn't gone deaf in self-defense; he pitied any dogs who had the misfortune to ever hear the woman speak.

He himself was more or less following Lydia around the premises, admiring the handiwork and - when requested - posing in his Dracula ensemble with visitors. Lydia carried her camera and, for a reasonable fee, the customer could receive printed versions of the photographs in a variety of sizes and even with custom Halloween-themed borders around the edges. Some complicated configuration of electronics were situated in a nearby tent, where the Monster Across the Street stood as vanguard against any prospective thievery, and she would disappear at intervals to generate the requested prints; the images could also be sent to the customer's electronic mail if they preferred. Vince was rather hoping that someone would post some of them on Tumblr at some point, if only so he could reblog them and brag about his talented adoptive sibling.

Having finished with the most recent photography transaction, Lydia took Vince's arm and they walked over to see how BJ was faring at the actual haunted ride. "Hey, Babes! Vince!" He pushed the lever to send the next car lurching forward, its occupants looking enthusiastic. It had barely vanished from sight when another emerged from the tunnel, with _its_ occupants looking a bit disheveled and maybe just faintly green. "Hey, folks, how was it?"

"S-scariest... ever," one of them managed as they extricated themselves from the vehicle.

"That's what we strive for! Be sure to look out for more surprises while you're here on the grounds - you never know what to expect from this outfit!"

"So how many nights will this all be happening?" Vince inquired of Lydia.

"Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night of this week and the next, and then Monday through Friday the week of Halloween," she said. "I hope that's not asking too much of any of you."

"On the contrary, this is such a splendid break in the usual routine! I've never experienced anything quite like it."

"Well, heck - you two should take a spin through the house," BJ said, gesturing at the empty car. "Knowing you, Babes, you haven't had a break yet. Besides, our pal here hasn't seen the inside." He winked.

"Is it scarier than you?" Vince asked.

"Obviously not," BJ replied, looking highly flattered by the question. "But it comes pretty close, if I do say so myself."

* * *

That the haunted house was proving to be a success didn't surprise Vince much. He was better acquainted than most with just how talented Lydia was on her own, and when her talent was coupled with her husband's almost limitless magic, it was practically a given that she could accomplish most anything she undertook. They were treated to a glowing review in the local paper, as well as a feature on the regional televised news program. Somewhat more surprising were the number of local dignitaries who came out in support of the fundraiser. That the headmistress of Lydia's old school would put in an appearance was nothing unexpected, given that they were to be the beneficiary of the proceeds; but so too came the mayor of Peaceful Pines, along with a few other elected officials. Lydia was thoroughly gratified by the whole thing.

It was on Halloween itself, however, that the biggest surprise of all arrived, and it was hard to say which among them was the most startled by the visit they could never have predicted.

He and Lydia finished with another group of photos. "I've taken several 'behind the scenes' sorts of pictures," she said. "There's a magazine called _Terricula_ \- it's the Latin word for fright - which focuses on scary and horror-themed events throughout the United States. They accept amateur submissions, and I thought I would send them some of the best pictures and a write-up about what we did here. They might publish it, it would be great for my portfolio."

"That would be terribly exciting. You must be sure to get me a copy if they do."

"Of course!"

They made their way over to the ride to check on BJ; Lydia seemed to have some concerns about him not drinking enough water while he was working. Sure enough, he'd been ignoring the bottle she had brought him earlier, and observed her with an amused sort of tolerance as she scolded him on the dangers of dehydration. "All right, all right," he said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture before grabbing the bottle. "I'm drinking, see? Chug-a-lug and all."

"You show wisdom in listening to your wife," said a new voice, and all three of them turned toward the speaker with widening eyes.

"F- er, Godfather?" BJ blurted, just barely remembering not to say the full title lest he be overheard.

"Greetings, children." He inclined his head to Vince, who nodded at him. "I imagine you weren't expecting to see me here."

"Well, no," said Lydia. It belatedly occurred to Vince that, as the Fairy Godfather had the means to allow _other_ ghosts to leave the Neitherworld for short bursts of time, it only made sense that he himself could come and go as he pleased, more or less. "But it's certainly nice to see you again. You've been well, I hope?"

"Thank you, I have. It's always a pleasure to speak with someone who never forgets her manners. I understand this is a charitable function and I came to make my contribution."

"That's very considerate of you."

"Partly. In truth, however, I had another motive - to make another offer you can't refuse." He glanced shrewdly from husband to wife. "I'd like to have an audience with the two of you at your convenience, once Halloween is over and you've finished up here. There is something I haven't told you, and I think it's time you began to understand the truth."

"The truth?" BJ repeated. "About what?"

"It's too much to explain here. Come to my castle in four days' time, and we will speak at length. In the meantime, here is my ticket; allow me to enjoy your delightful undertaking."

As he disappeared into the depths of the ride, Vince looked at his friends and saw his own perplexity mirrored in their pale faces. "What's this all about, Vince? Any idea?" Lydia asked.

"Very little, I'm afraid. The Godfather is a keeper of a vast deal of ancient knowledge," he said thoughtfully. "The truth is, no one in the Neitherworld has any real idea of how old he is or from whence his power comes. He's simply always been there. If he's choosing to explain something to the two of you, there must be some significance to it."

"Ancient knowledge, huh?" BJ looked curious. "Like what?"

"Well, judging by some comments he made when your brother and I visited him prior to your wedding, he has a greater understanding of your curse than I would have expected. Perhaps his request is related to that."

"My curse?" he repeated. "Like how I can't say my own name and stuff?"

"Exactly. He spoke a little of it to Donny and me. Whatever he's about to tell you, there must be a reason he's chosen this time."

"Trick or treat," said Lydia, dryly.


	3. The Destined Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fairy Godfather moonlights as Mr. Exposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering: Mr. Crumb, Beetlejuice's landlord referenced in the previous chapter, makes an appearance in the episode "Relatively Pesty" - the one with the ants-turned-aunts. He specifies in that episode that the lease says he can triple the rent for each additional relative who moves in with Beetlejuice.
> 
> The explanation for how a poltergeist is created is pure conjecture on my part. Basically, I'm just trying to clear up Beej's backstory, in order to make it fit with this prophecy/mythology that my weird little brain concocted. The fact that certain aspects of the cartoon help is just a delightful coincidence.

They arrived punctually, a few days after his turn on the whimsical spook ride they had constructed, and the Fairy Godfather was pleased.

He knew they were confused. He would have been surprised if they were not, really. He hardly had a reputation for answering questions or explaining much of anything; it was not his way. That his unusual position afforded him opportunities to do things for his fellow Neitherworldians was chiefly a source of pleasure, and he certainly had no quarrel with the esteem and importance with which this led them to regard him. But his true purpose was something he kept quietly hidden, at least most of the time.

These two, however, were a different story.

When they were first admitted to his chamber, he took a moment to simply study them. Beetlejuice was as recognizable as ever, even though he no longer looked quite the same as he once did. The Godfather half wondered if even the poltergeist himself understood just how much he had been changed through knowing the human girl. He had softened, sloughed off his roughest edges, gentled like a stallion driven into the waiting arms of the sea. Oh, he was still conniving and greedy, to be sure; but there was enough of an alteration in his form and his nature that anyone who might have once disliked him could be persuaded to at least consider changing their minds.

Lydia, by comparison, was different from when he had first seen her - or when he had last seen her, for that matter. Like her husband, she had adopted a secondary appearance. In the Outerworld, she retained the face and figure which nature had bestowed upon her, looking every inch the ordinary young woman she most certainly wasn't. On visits to the Neitherworld, however, she took on a much more gaunt visage, with hollowed eyes and paler cheeks; her glossy black hair was the same, but thanks to the kindness of the prince, it was capped with a small jeweled diadem of silver. Where his relationship with her had left Beetlejuice calmer and more at ease, knowing him had strengthened Lydia, given her a confidence and an iron resolve that she would never have found on her own.

Oddly, and irrelevantly, and perhaps undeservedly, the Godfather found that he was rather proud of them both.

"Please, be seated," he said, gesturing to the chairs opposite his desk. "I'm glad you could spare me this meeting."

"If there's one thing I've learned over the years," said Lydia with a chuckle, as Beetlejuice drew out one of the chairs for her, "it's that an invitation like yours isn't wise to ignore."

"First, allow me to congratulate you not only on the marriage, but on your prior triumph over the Shadow Man," he said, ringing for one of his men to bring them some refreshment. "If I may be honest, your defeat of Erebos is directly responsible for my asking you here today."

"He ain't trying to come back, is he?" Beetlejuice interrupted.

"Not to my knowledge, and I do think I'd be aware of it before long. Ease your mind on that point," said the Godfather. "But the circumstances of his defeat have proven to me that a conjecture I have held for a long time regarding the pair of you is correct."

He watched them exchange glances, their puzzled expressions almost mirrored. "Meaning... what, exactly?"

"Well, it's hard to know precisely where to start telling you everything. But I suppose the easiest way to begin is with your curse, Beetlejuice."

"The one that won't let me say my own name. Vince said you told him something about that."

"Just so. To call it a curse is not technically accurate, because that implies the existence of what the writers of fairy stories might describe as a curse escape clause - that is, something which allows the curse to break," the Godfather clarified. "The kiss of a princess, for instance, resolved the magical dilemma in New Orleans. And make no mistake," he added, "it sounds ridiculous, I know. But there is a reason that Lady Delphine is so fond of that particular solution; it's usually effective."

"So it's not a curse?" Lydia asked.

"Not precisely. Beetlejuice, of course, came into being here in the Neitherworld many hundreds of years ago." He gave the poltergeist a searching look. "What do you remember of your life?"

"Not much." He shrugged. "I know I looked kinda like 'BJ' when I was alive, but that's about all I know."

"Truthfully, that's more than I expected. Few of us have any memories of our lives," said the Godfather. "When you died, you were born here into the Juice family, of course. They were not your relations in life; those who are born here as infants usually were orphaned young, and so are given new families to compensate for what they did not have in life. Such was the case with you."

"Well, that's interesting, I guess, but what's it got to do with the price of dung beetles in Zanzibar?"

"My boy... you are a poltergeist. A creature of emotion, as I explained to your brother and the prince." The Godfather leveled a sympathetic gaze at him. "There is no easy way to say this. Poltergeists are the spirits of people who have been brutally murdered. The anger at the injustice of your life's ending, combined with your painful loneliness over having had no family, caused you to manifest into a powerful spirit of chaos."

Lydia looked alarmed, and distraught at the idea of her beloved having had to endure such a thing, even though it was so many lifetimes ago. She reached over to put her hand on his arm, though Beetlejuice almost didn't seem to realize it; he was stunned silent by the revelation. "How do you even _know_ that?" he managed after a moment. "Who _was_ I?"

"The victim of some very unfortunate circumstances," the Godfather replied simply. "Your specific identity is unknown to me, but for our current purposes it matters very little. Suffice it to say that in the time when you lived, certain factions sought to either subjugate or exterminate certain other factions, and many innocent lives were caught in the crossfire and destroyed under horrific conditions. Not that modern humanity has necessarily learned much from these past mistakes," he added, somewhat bitterly.

Beetlejuice finally recovered sufficiently from his shock to take notice of Lydia's distress, and gave her fingers a slightly awkward squeeze. "It's okay, Lyds. All that matters is that I'm here now. But F.G., what's all my tragic backstory got to do with anything?"

"Well, you're hardly the first - or last - poltergeist to pass this way, of course," said the Godfather. He felt his patience starting to slip, and marshaled it back into place; after all, he was delivering quite a lot of exposition to the duo. "But you are an inordinately powerful one, so much so that you are a continuous source of alarm." Beetlejuice puffed up a bit at this. "Naturally, this caught the attention of a number of individuals, not least myself. And I thought there was a chance that you may actually prove to be more than you appeared. In the meantime, however, we could hardly risk you being summoned to the Outerworld by someone unable to keep any sort of control over you. So the curse, as you persist in calling it, was placed on you to prevent you from speaking your own name, lest you teach it to the wrong person."

"But I taught Lyds..."

"Yes. And when you did that, after being so long contented to ignore the mortal realm, I began to think that my theory was correct."

"So you mean, it's okay for me to know his name?" Lydia ventured.

"Quite. For the first time in centuries, a poltergeist had willingly placed itself more or less under the governance of a human. Names have power, you know, as I told Donny and the prince; and by allowing you to know his, Beetlejuice gave himself into your keeping, as it were." Beetlejuice looked vaguely affronted, albeit faintly amused as well. "He can refuse you nothing, as you may have observed."

"Yeah, it's come up once or twice." She chuckled.

"So my observation of the situation began. My next indication that my suppositions were accurate came with the revelation of the shrine."

"The shrine?"

"You've seen it yourself. Beetlejuice has a well-tended shrine to you inside his head."

"Oh, I forgot about that. How is Will, anyway?" she asked.

Beetlejuice shrugged. "So there's a shrine in there," he grumbled. "So what? She was my best friend. She's important."

"Best friends don't commonly get shrines, Beetlejuice, as I think you know perfectly well." The Fairy Godfather leveled a serious gaze at him, then turned it on Lydia and added, "But _goddesses_ do."

* * *

He couldn't really blame Lydia for the blank expression in her eyes at this new idea. Clearly she was trying to absorb what he'd just implied, but he could appreciate the difficulty. "I'm not a goddess," she finally managed. "It's taken me a while to get used to being a princess, but a goddess? No way."

"If it comforts you at all, Lydia, you're correct. You are not, strictly speaking, a deity of any sort." The Godfather finished his tea.

"Then what does the shrine prove?"

"That I was on the right track. Beetlejuice knew, without knowing that he knew, that you were - and still are - of the utmost importance to him. The shrine was a manifestation of that. In truth, I suspect that the shrine may have predated your acquaintance, and lay dormant until he found the individual for whom it was intended."

"Wait a sec." A light bulb had appeared over Beetlejuice's head, and it suddenly lit up. "Does all this have to do with you offering us that contract? All that stuff about 'your life will belong to her, her death will belong to you'? Because that's where it sounds like you're going."

"You begin to understand." He couldn't help being pleased; this was quicker than he'd expected Beetlejuice to grasp the finer points. "I still had my doubts even when you approached me for assistance regarding Lydia's school function. But once I made the discovery concerning the allocation of your juice, and how a portion of it had come to reside permanently within her, I knew there could be no more question of what you both truly are."

"So what _are_ we?" The Godfather hadn't anticipated an outburst from Lydia - Beetlejuice, yes, but not her. "What's the big mystery? And why do you know more about who and what we are than we do?" She looked eminently frustrated. "Sorry, sir. I don't mean to be disrespectful," she added, toning it down a little, "but this is all incredibly vague and weird and confusing."

"I can imagine that it must be. I apologize if it appears that I'm being less than forthcoming - I have had a great deal of time to grasp all of this, but of course everything is very new to your comprehension." He pushed his chair back from the desk and got to his feet. "But if you will indulge me a bit longer, I can answer those questions and more. Please, follow me to my library; I have something I wish to show you."


	4. Some Mysterious Being

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do Isis and Osiris, the yin and yang pendants from Lady Delphine, and the Voynich manuscript have in common? The Fairy Godfather explains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you learn the mythology that developed in my mind one night while I was sleeping. I just hope it makes sense. I couldn't have done this without Bookworm Gal helping me with mythology research!

To Lydia's chagrin, she soon discovered that she had, in fact, been in the Fairy Godfather's library on her previous visit. It was the room in which she had been strapped to an operating table, her mouth taped shut, forced to stare in terror as a midget gangster menaced her with an electric saw. Beetlejuice wasn't the only one still occasionally plagued by nightmares of the incident, though for his sake she tried to keep hers to herself.

On the present occasion, however, all was calm and orderly, without a trace of evidence pertaining to the events of more than four years prior. The neatness of the glass-fronted bookcases and the studious quiet of the room put her at ease. "You sure have a lot of books, Godfather," she commented.

"That I do, Princess. Time sometimes feels like it stands still for me," he admitted, "but a good book is like a good friend. It helps the hours slip past almost without notice."

"So I guess, since we're here," said Beetlejuice, "you've got something you wanna show us in one of these books."

"Indeed." He took out his keys and unlocked one of the bookcases; its contents, Lydia noticed, seemed to be older and more fragile than most. "Have either of you any familiarity with a document known as the Voynich manuscript?"

"Eh... no."

"The name rings a bell," said Lydia, "but I can't quite remember why."

"It dates from the 15th century, as the Outerworld measures time, but its contents are much older," he explained. "It's named for the Polish book dealer who purchased it early in the 20th century, though he has nothing to do with its contents. The original author was a magnet, as Lady Delphine describes her Hugo, who made the acquaintance of a fairly benign spirit. The document known as the Voynich manuscript resulted from their interactions. Scholars and linguists in the Outerworld have struggled to translate it ever since."

"But they can't?"

"No. The script used in the book is unlike any your world has ever known. Even among Neitherworld denizens, there are few who understand it."

"Talk about your dead languages," Beetlejuice muttered.

The Fairy Godfather actually cracked a smile. "That is one way to put it, yes." He took a volume from the shelf and brought it to a lectern. "As you can see, it's written in this unusual script, and illustrated too. The original author was what I believe might nowadays be described as a hedge witch - a common practitioner of simple practices. Not really magic, but close enough that religious persecution deemed them dangerous. So her friend the spirit taught her this way of writing so she could record all her knowledge without anyone being the wiser. Of course, the difficulty arose in that the woman was the _only_ one who could understand what she had written... and when she died, so did any chance of translation."

"You have a copy?" Lydia stared in fascination at the page, with its peculiar loopy symbols.

"Oh, no. These are the lost pages - it's well understood by cryptography scholars in your world that several pages are missing from the Voynich manuscript. They're in my possession. That was the price the spirit extracted for sharing the language," he explained. "In exchange for the means by which to record her forbidden knowledge, the human woman had to document a few extra pages for the spirit, and give them up. They've come to be part of my collection."

"How did you get them?" she asked, feeling like she was missing something.

"That's a story for another time. What's of importance is what's contained in them - the knowledge of a long-lost prophecy." He turned a few pages, and scrutinzed the weird writing. "Perhaps I shouldn't say it's lost," he said after a moment. "The prophecy, such as it is, has appeared in many instances of human civilization since it was written. It's very old; even I'm uncertain as to just how old it really is."

"And it... keeps appearing?" A twinge of worry was starting to build in Lydia's stomach. Something about all this wasn't sitting quite right.

"It keeps appearing, but never gets completely fulfilled," said the Godfather. "Almost like humanity is _trying_ to bring it to bear, but hasn't quite gotten all the details right."

Beetlejuice's expression was becoming more and more baffled. "And what's all this to do with us?"

"Well, let me read you the contents of the prophecy itself," said the Godfather, "and then you can see what you think."

* * *

_She is the embodiment of Life - of warmth and healing, of new growth and gentle compassion. And from almost the hour of her birth she has longed for Death. She surrounds herself with gloom and sorrow, rejoicing in them._

_He is the embodiment of Death - of cold and darkness, of withered limbs and austere silence. And even without knowing it himself, he has spent centuries searching for Life. He seeks the warmth like a sapling reaches for the sun._

_The union of Life and Death has been sought through countless ages. It is a love beyond love, an interweaving of eternity. The offspring of this union will either save our world or destroy it._

* * *

The three of them stood in complete silence for a few minutes. Lydia, for her part, was running the words through her mind.

"I imagine you have questions," said the Godfather.

"That's putting it mildly," Beetlejuice grumbled. "So where else does this crop up, besides in this book that - ever so conveniently - nobody but you knows how to read?"

"Well, probably the best known example is the ancient Greek myth of Hades and Persephone," he began, finding a chair. Apparently he'd been standing for about as long as he could tolerate. "The god of death fell deeply in love with and married the goddess of spring. Arguably the happiest marriage in the entire Greek pantheon, in fact. It's also worth noting that the circumstances of their union meant that they could never be permanently separated - Persephone had to return to her mother for six months of the year, but she was with her husband the other six." He looked at them expectantly, as though that settled everything.

"There's more?" Lydia guessed.

"Perhaps you'd care to cross the Mediterranean? For the ancient Egyptians it was Isis and Osiris. She was the living goddess of health and wisdom, known as the protector of the dead. He was the 'Lord of Love,' who was brutally murdered by Set, and Isis had to find all of his body parts which were scattered across Egypt - and if memory serves, the two of you had a similar adventure once upon a time," he added. "There's also the fact that she was called 'She Who Knows All Names,' because as I have stated before, knowing someone's true name gives you power over them."

"All right, this is starting to get creepy," she murmured.

"And you think this is us?" Beetlejuice looked both skeptical and uneasy. "We're these... whatever they are?"

"No, and yes. I don't mean to suggest that you yourselves keep appearing in world mythologies," the Godfather clarified. "Rather, I think that you are the two about whom the original prophecy was written. From the original prophecy came the later beliefs. All stories are, at the end of the day, just part of the same story." He nodded at Lydia. "You wear the yang pendant, do you not?"

"The gift from Lady Delphine?" She reached into her collar and pulled it into view. "How do you know - oh, never mind, that's probably a pointless question. Yes, I have the yang. Beej has the yin."

"Precisely. Delphine didn't give those to you arbitrarily - she gave them to you because she suspected the same thing I have been describing. You said earlier that you're not a goddess, Lydia, and you're right." He smiled, perhaps a bit tiredly. "Each of you is, instead, an avatar."

"...a character from a lousy James Cameron film?" Beetlejuice guessed.

"No."

"A kid with an arrow on his head and elemental powers?"

"No!"

Lydia rolled her eyes. Her husband looked entirely too pleased at having irritated the Fairy Godfather, although given the incredibly cryptic nature of the whole meeting, she almost couldn't blame him. Certainly it was all very confusing. "Godfather," she said, "maybe you could just spell this out for us? I know I'm starting to get a headache."

"You are the Avatars of Life and Death - I think I need not clarify which is which," he added.

"But why?"

"Why... what?"

"Why us? Why this? Why any of it?"

"Did you think it was some kind of cosmic accident that you two stumbled upon each other?" he inquired.

"Most of what I do is by accident," Beetlejuice interjected, "except when it's not."

"You're not helping," Lydia told him.

"Yes, dear."

"The chief of the importance lies in the final part of the prophecy," said the Godfather. "The offspring of the union will save or destroy the world. All the previous examples of the marriage of Life and Death in the various world mythologies either had no children at all or had no children who fit this aspect of the prophecy."

"Uh..." Beetlejuice looked at Lydia. "Does he know something I don't?"

"Probably several things, although in this particular case, _no_."

"Just checking."

"You think I wouldn't keep you informed on that point?"

"It remains," said the Godfather, raising his voice a bit to interrupt them, "to be seen whether you'll fulfill the last part yourselves. It's worth noting that the prophecy says 'our world,' but that doesn't exactly clarify which world. It could be the Outerworld, or it could be the Neitherworld, or it could mean something else entirely. We simply don't know at this point."

"But what if we don't have kids either?" Lydia paused. "Is it even _possible_ for us to have kids? I mean, neither one of us is entirely alive or entirely dead, and I don't know how that affects the situation."

"Time will tell," he replied serenely. "Indeed, that may be exactly the factor which is missing from the previous instances of the prophecy. You aren't gods, and you aren't one thing or the other but rather both at once. And if the worst should come to pass, and there are no children and I've been wrong the whole time..." He spread his hands. "At worst, it's done no harm. You're still bound to one another through eternity, regardless, and I don't hear either of you complaining about that."

* * *

"So does any of this make sense to you?" Beetlejuice asked later.

They were back at Prince Vince's castle, having concluded the visit and returned in time for dinner. He was lounging on the balcony of the little suite of rooms belonging to the Princess of Beetles, and Lydia was sitting at her dressing table, combing her hair.

"Not really," she said finally, having mulled it over extensively. "I mean, why would the Fairy Godfather have so much interest in this prophecy in the first place? And why is he so convinced that it's about us? And if it _is_ about us, what does that mean? And -"

"Enough," he pleaded, his head spinning briefly. "I dunno, Lyds. It's all pretty weird. Sounds like Delphine's in on it, too, since she gave us these things." He gestured to his yin pendant; it was concealed under his clothing, but she knew it was there. "The heck do they talk about when they're playing Monopoly, I wonder?"

"Besides not putting the tax money on Free Parking? The fate of the cosmos, apparently." She looked at her reflection. "I don't know if I like being the Avatar of Life. I mean, do I have responsibilities I don't know about?"

"Better question would be, do you have _powers_ you don't know about?"

They looked at each other for a long minute, neither one knowing the right answer.


	5. No More, No Less

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice contemplates the prophecy, and the prospect of fatherhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really glad that so many of you like where this is going! I was honestly concerned that I wasn't explaining anything very well.
> 
> In the words of one of my betas, the plot is starting to catch up with our heroes and they need to walk faster.

A day or so later, they were back in the Outerworld, and BJ was back at work exterminating (that is to say, digesting) insects for the locals. Trust Lyds to come up with a form of employment that he actually _enjoyed_ \- sure, sometimes he got called out for a job at odd hours, but his methods of insect removal were invariably successful and, according to the wife, Beetleman's Bug Bouncers had an excellent reputation on something called Yipe. Or maybe it was Gulp? Something like that. He didn't really know, or care very much, what that meant as long as he kept getting work out of it.

When he was at home he liked to occupy himself with odd projects around the farm, which had since been stripped of all its Halloween décor. He'd already constructed a little two-car garage, designed to look like the house and occupying the spot where the farm's barn had once stood, so that Doomie and Pinky didn't have to be left in the Neitherworld. Pinky didn't usually get too upset as long as Doomie was with her; placid little convertible, really. But Doomie had a tendency to pine, especially for his 'mother.'

(Jacques had looked entirely too pleased with his own cleverness the day he commented that "Ze cars, zey are so much like Lydia and Be-attle-juice! Pinky, she is calm and collected, but Doomie, 'e goes to pieces if 'e goes too long without seeing Lydia!" Eh, who asked him?)

BJ's latest clever idea for home improvement was to set up a little deck of sorts on the roof of the garage, with the idea that he would get Lydia a telescope for Christmas. He'd found out that some models came with camera mounts, for photographing the stars and whatnot, and he figured she could get plenty of use out of such a thing. Yeah, okay, he tended to spoil her a little. Honestly, if he got much sappier he was going to turn into a tree. But if she smiled, it was worth it.

Building projects hardly took him much time under normal circumstances, what with his ability to replicate himself at will. In this case, however, he was moving slowly because it gave him time to think, and thanks to the Fairy Godfather's recent revelations, he certainly had enough to contemplate. He moved the cars outside, so they wouldn't get sawdust in their engines, and worked in quiet solitude so he could hear his own thoughts.

As a general rule, Beetlejuice could handle weirdness. After all, you just didn't last multiple centuries in the Neitherworld, which was itself at least partially powered by nonsensoleum, without developing a tolerance. And when you yourself were truthfully responsible for more than your fair share of the weirdness, you couldn't help but accept it.

This was different. This was so much more than _weird_. Really, he didn't have a word for what this was, and he knew a lot of words. (People often thought he was stupid, a misconception he frequently encouraged because it usually led them to underestimate him. That by itself should have been a hint as to just how stupid he wasn't, really, but only a few ever seemed to figure it out.)

He shook his head; his train of thought was derailing. "All right, so - Avatar of Death," he muttered, hammering a nail into a step on the staircase leading up to the deck. "Let's try to sort this out."

So he wasn't the average, run-of-the-mill dead guy. Not exactly news, in and of itself. But the Avatar of Death? What did that even mean? Did he have to start dressing up as the Grim Reaper, and walk around telling humans it was their time to die? That might be fun for a while, but he was pretty sure it would get old real fast. And anyway, the possibility of him doing such a thing only raised more questions, because what would it mean for Lyds as the Avatar of Life? That she was a walking pregnancy detector? Again, funny in concept, probably rather annoying in practice.

No, the Fairy Godfather had made it sound like the whole thing was mostly symbolic. Like they were just representing the ideas of Life and Death. That didn't seem too terrible. It even made sense in a way, because deep down he was secretly surprised that a (mostly) dead guy had been allowed to bond with, and marry, a (mostly) living girl. But if the powers that be had intended them to be this all along, then of course they would allow it.

He cut and sanded another board to serve as the next step, the thoughts still rolling around in his head. So if it was their intention that this would be the case, then the powers that be (whoever _they_ were) also must intend, or expect, or at least hope that there'd be a child out of all this. No wonder Lydia had seemed so confused - was that even possible? Presumably yes, or he doubted the Fairy Godfather would have even mentioned it. As a general rule, the guy seemed to know what was what.

A father. Him, the Ghost With the Most, a father. This could be fun or this could be terrifying; probably both at the same time. He started to laugh, very quietly and very wickedly.

"They expect us to have a kid, do they?" he muttered. "Oh, that's going to be a lot of fun... for _me_. Everyone else? Probably not so much. My son'll be ten times the ghoul I ever was!"

* * *

Of course, there was one major flaw in that line of thinking: his son would also be _Lydia's_ son. She'd always had a calming influence on him, which had a lot to do with why he tended to scream her name anytime he was in trouble or freaked out. Likely she would do the same for their little monstrosity.

She was preparing the photos to send to the magazine when he finally talked to her about it a day or so later. The write-up about the Halloween extravaganza was printing, and she was sealing photographs into little protective sleeves before putting them into a large envelope. He bobbed about in midair, watching her.

"So whaddya think about us having a kid?"

Her reaction was so beautifully choreographed that he sort of regretted not waiting until she was in the middle of drinking something. Everything in her hands immediately spilled onto the floor, and she started at him in bewilderment. "You want to run that by me again?" she managed, even as he dropped down to help her scoop up the mess.

"Heh. Sorry. I've been thinking about everything the Fairy Godfather dropped on us the other day," he clarified.

" _Oh_." Her expression cleared. "Context is important, Beej."

"I mean - I guess that's the long-range plan, right? We have a kid, he saves the world or tears it to pieces."

"That's the way it sounded. Of course, we don't know what world it actually meant - or how many kids there are, or what the circumstances would be that would cause such a thing." She resumed her seat and went back to work.

"Well, what _do_ you think about it?"

"I think we'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she replied brightly. "Why? What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking my kid'll be an even bigger pain in everybody's collective ass than I ever was. And I can't wait to see it."

She gave him a look which seemed to convey multiple things; he was only sure of the amusement. "With you as his father, that's a strong possibility. But I would hope that, as his mother, I could potentially counterbalance that."

"Probably. You'd make a great mom," he said. Not something he'd normally say; he avoided blunt honesty like most people avoided the plague. But it was Lyds.

"You think?" She smiled. "I think you might do all right as a dad, too. You have a pretty good one yourself, so it's not like you lack for a role model. Your parents would probably be so excited, it would be adorable."

"Yecch," he replied, though his tone was amiable. "And I don't even want to picture Donny's reaction." He morphed his head briefly into a replica of his brother. "Oh, happy day! I'm gonna be an uncle! Oh, I can't wait to teach the li'l fella how to play baseball and climb trees and help old ladies cross the street!"

Lydia burst out laughing as he resumed his usual appearance. "You're terrible," she said, "but accurate."

Beetlejuice grinned at her, watching as she finished assembling the package and sealed it. "Yeah, well, _your_ brother'll have a field day himself. Probably declare another national holiday and have somebody build the kid a jeweled crib."

"No argument. But this is all premature speculation, you know," she said, adding postage to her envelope.

"Hmm, true. Kinda fun though."

"It is."

* * *

They set aside the Baby Juice discussion for the time being, and Beetlejuice reasoned that they'd pick it up again once there was an actual need to revisit the subject. He finished the observation deck on the garage shortly before Thanksgiving, which was spent with Chuckles and Delia, and his in-laws sent them home with the turkey's wishbone to dry out and break. Truthfully, he didn't know what to wish for; it seemed like a silly tradition to him, since his magic could render most wishes accessible at the drop of a hat. But it wasn't like they knew that, so he just went along with it.

In the middle of December, he and Doomie went to pick up Lydia's telescope and hide it at her parents' house until Christmas Day. He returned in time to bring in the mail, which - to his surprise - included an envelope from _Terricula_ magazine. "Hey, Babes!" he called, entering the farmhouse. "Looks like you got something!"

"Huh?" She scuttled down the stairs, and her eyes widened as she accepted the envelope and saw the return address. "Oh, let's see..." She tore into it, and as she read the letter it contained, a smile spread over her face. "Beej, they bought it! They accepted my story about our haunted fundraiser!"

"Why are you surprised? It was _brilliant_."

"Flatterer." She chuckled, then broke off as she saw the rest of the contents. "What's... wow. They're... they're offering me an assignment. An actual paying assignment!"

"No kidding?" He moved behind her and put his chin on her shoulder to read for himself. "Transylvania? Are they having you on?"

"They want me to go to some castle outside Transylvania and investigate whether it's really haunted - a photo essay, like the one I sent them." She sounded mystified and he couldn't blame her.

"No offense, Lyds, but who gives an assignment like that? I mean, that's a huge deal."

"Apparently no one else is willing to get near the place," she said thoughtfully, perusing the details, "and that just makes them want the scoop all the more. Why they think _I'm_ willing to get near it, I'm not sure - it's an offer, of course, I can turn it down if I want."

"So what do you wanna do?" He tilted his head to sort of look at her. "I mean, if you wanna go, we'll go - but no way you're going alone."

"I wouldn't want to go without you anyway. Who goes to a haunted castle and doesn't bring her favorite ghost?"

Beetlejuice cracked a smile. "Nobody I know."


	6. You're Living in the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia discovers part of her power, which she's had all along, and the house sitter arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is turning out to be a bit more complicated than I anticipated, to be honest. It's entirely possible that I won't be able to finish it by the end of the month as I was hoping, in which case I apologize.
> 
> Charles inventing his own reality about Lydia's travel plans is partly a joke based on the fact that I myself live in Pennsylvania. It amused me too much not to throw it in there.
> 
> Also, these two have definitely developed minds of their own.

Christmas came and went with all of its usual lavish celebration. Lydia and BJ again spent the day with her parents, although most of the afternoon was occupied in hauling her new telescope back to the farmhouse and setting it up on the observatory deck BJ had built for the purpose. "Guess I'm gonna need to set up some kind of cover," he remarked thoughtfully to Charles. "Didn't think about the snow."

As the sun went down and the stars emerged in the clear winter night, they took turns looking through the scope and exclaiming over what they saw. Delia, in particular, was in ecstasies. "Oh, I'm inspired to do a whole new series of paintings! 'Nighttime skyscapes'! Charles, we should get one of these telescopes too!"

"Uh... sure, honey, we can see about that."

For BJ, Lydia had picked out a gold pocketwatch at the Neitherworld Shocking Mall, and had the jeweler modify it; it had tiny gemstone beetles in place of numbers at the 3, 6, 9 and 12 spots, the same four colors as the jeweled beetles on her Princess of Beetles tiara. At the time she'd congratulated herself on the cleverness of the design. It not only related to his real name, but it was easy to explain in the Outerworld by his occupation. To complete the gift, she'd had words engraved inside the watch as well. _For my favorite pest._

While her parents were diverted by the telescope, she put the small box into his gloved hands and watched him open it. "I still have the watch you gave me a while ago," she remarked, quietly, "and I thought it was _time_ you had one too." She chuckled. "It's not as impressive as the telescope, by a long shot... but I thought you'd like it."

"Aw, Lyds," he said, pressing the button to examine the inside of the watch. "Heh, this is great. Of course I'm your favorite pest! And now I'll never be late for dinner again."

"If there's one thing you're never late for, Beej, it's meals."

"True. But with your cooking, who would be?"

"Sweet talker." She laughed.

* * *

A fine, soft snow blanketed the state on New Year's Day, and Lydia was oustide almost as soon as it finished falling. She was as attached to the local wildlife as she had ever been growing up, and there were many feeders and water troughs on the farm property which required her attention. BJ trailed behind her, watching with a lazy sort of affectionate tolerance, now and then lending a hand.

"Never quite got the deal with you and these guys," he remarked. "You're nice to _everything_. It'd be sickening if it were anybody else."

"They appreciate what I do for them," she protested mildly.

"How can you tell?"

She paused, the sack of wild bird food in her hands. "You know, I'm not sure," she admitted. "I just kind of know it, even if I don't know how I know it."

As if to support her claim, a brilliant red cardinal fluttered down to help himself to her offerings. "Hi there," she greeted him with a smile. "I'll bet you're hungry, huh? It's hard to find food in these storms, isn't it?"

A series of emphatic chirps answered her. "Exactly," Lydia replied, as though the cardinal's 'remarks' made perfect sense. In a way, they sort of did. She might not have known quite what the bird was trying to express, but she felt as though they understood one another. Setting aside the bag of food, she pulled out her camera to get a picture of her new little friend.

"You're a regular Doctor Zoolittle, Lyds," BJ commented.

"Thanks, I think."

It wasn't until they went back inside that Lydia really thought anything of it. She went up to the spare room, the one which served as her little photography and sewing studio, and started reviewing the photos in her camera. The cardinal had shortly been joined by a small cluster of sparrows and a couple of squirrels, and she had laughed as they chattered amongst themselves while she photographed them.

As she reached a particularly good picture of one of the squirrels, she paused. The creature had been remarkably cooperative, sitting placidly on the snowbank, her cheek pouches stuffed with sunflower seeds and a peanut clutched in her tiny front paws. Only when Lydia had taken the picture, and thanked the squirrel for her patience, did the little rodent run off to her nest.

The weight of realization was almost too heavy to bear.

"Beetlejuice!"

After a few seconds, he popped into view, looking faintly alarmed. "Babes? What's spookin' ya? I mean, besides your resident spook."

"I was just - I was looking at my pictures. And I was realizing... the animals..."

"...what about them?"

"BJ, they listen to me. They communicate with me."

"Well, yeah." He scratched his head. "They always did. Remember that baby skunk you fished out of a thunderstorm?"

"The skeletons in your closet. Yes, I remember. And there was the family of blue jays at my parents' house - I built a little birdhouse for them and they seemed to talk to me, and we had to deal with the hunters who hurt the mother." She shook her head at the memory. "It's always been like this, hasn't it?"

"Sure has, Babes."

"Didn't you ever think that was... I don't know, weird?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Uh... no offense, Lyds, but... it's not exactly the weirdest thing you've done in the last ten years." Smirking, he added, "Pretty sure that's me."

Lydia gave him a _look_. "You're missing my point, BJ. Most people don't interact with animals that way." He looked faintly confused, so she added, "Animals. Living things."

"Living..." His brow furrowed, and she thought at first he wasn't getting it. But then his eyes widened almost comically. " _Oh_. So _that's_ what the Avatar of Life does!"

She nodded. "That's what I'm thinking. It's kind of a passive ability, but if that's part of being the Avatar of Life, then it explains why I don't really know how it works."

"Makes sense, I guess. You think maybe it's something you can kinda learn to harness?" he wondered. "Like, actually understand what they're saying? That could come in handy."

"Maybe. I'll ask the Fairy Godfather next time we talk to him, he might know." She glanced at the camera, and snorted. "Oh, brother. I guess that makes me 'actual Disney princess Lydia Deetz-Beetleman'."

Beetlejuice cackled. "Well, you _are_ a princess, thanks to Vince. But what does that make me, then?" he teased.

"Something out of a Tim Burton film, obviously."

* * *

New England winters being what they are, it wasn't until February that they were able to make plans for their trip to Romania. By that time the storms had eased up sufficiently for a flight to Europe, and they were able to arrange for a house sitter whom they could agree would be perfectly trustworthy.

"Now, don't worry about a thing," said Donny in his relentlessly cheerful way. "Your little house and your friendly cars will all be just fine until you get back!"

"It was very nice of the Fairy Godfather to set it up that you could be here," Lydia remarked. Thanks to the Godfather's assistance, Donny was once again in the guise of 'Donald Beetleman,' younger brother of BJ, and by all appearances was a living, breathing specimen. "I really didn't want to leave the place empty all these weeks; you never know what my mother might take it into her head to do when I'm not here."

"Speaking of your parents," he said, "Beetlejuice tells me that they're a little confused about your destination."

She laughed. "Yeah. In my defense, I told Dad the truth - that we're going to Transylvania," she said. "But his poor nerves wouldn't let him process it, I guess, so he's telling everyone we're going to be in _Pennsylvania_. I just don't have the heart to correct him; I somehow don't think he'd hear me even if I did."

"I'm sure it'll be fine. You do love spooky, and what's spookier than a haunted castle in Dracula's _neck_ of the woods?"

Lydia eyed him. "Donny, that pun was so bad, I'm surprised Beetlejuice didn't make it."

"I did!" her husband groused, entering the kitchen. "Quit swiping my jokes, Donny."

"Sorry, brother. That one just tickled my funny bone so much!"

"All right, you two," said Lydia, amused. "Let's just finish going over all of this. My parents' number is there by the phone if you have any problems that they could help with, but I don't think you will. There's plenty of firewood stacked by the back door for the wood stove and the fireplace. You can eat anything you want in the fridge, and if you can just check the feeders every couple of days to make sure my woodland friends aren't starving, I'd appreciate it. If any calls come in for the exterminator business, just tell them that the owner is on an extended vacation and won't be back until next month. Or if you want, just ignore the phone if it rings and let it go to voicemail, the outgoing message will tell them the same thing."

"That might be easier," he allowed.

She buttoned up her coat, knowing that it was almost time to leave. "The mailbox is out at the end of the driveway, so you'll have to walk out every day to get it - it usually comes around three. Just stack whatever we get in that little basket on the counter. If you start feeling stir-crazy, you're welcome to take Doomie out for an airing; he knows the roads around here pretty well." She smiled. "Basically, make yourself at home."

"It's such a peaceful little farm," he noted admiringly. "I've never seen so much snow in my afterlife. I'm sure it'll be a nice relaxing stay."

There came the sound of a car horn. "Oh, there's Dad," said Lydia. "He's taking us to the airport. Beej, can you get the suitcases out there?"

"Right, Babes." He started for the door.

"Wait! You have to change first!"

"Whoa! Almost gave Chuckie an eyeful, didn't I?" He snorted, morphing into his BJ form. "Don't know what he'd think if he knew what his son-in-law _really_ looks like."

"Let's not find out," said his wife dryly. BJ merely smirked, fluttering his eyelashes at her, before turning to wrestle their suitcases out to the car.

"Do you think Beetlejuice ever gets tired of leading a double life?" Donny wondered. His expression was just the smallest bit concerned. "You know, having to change forms and everything?"

"Between you and me, I used to worry about the same thing, back in the beginning," she admitted. "But I think once he got used to it, he started to really enjoy it."

"You think so?"

Lydia nodded. "In a way, it's like he's playing a prank on everybody in the entire Outerworld, and you just _know_ that appeals to him."

"Oh, I get it... it's like he's tricking everyone he meets into thinking he's just another fella, huh?"

"Exactly." Smiling, she added, "And that's one thing that you and I both know he definitely isn't."

"Too true, sister." Donny chuckled, walking her to the door. "But he's ours."

"Oh, yes."


	7. So Familiar a Gleam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's the old disappearing castle trick... I hear it's all done with mirrors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hard as I tried, dear readers, I couldn't get this finished before disappearing on my family vacation for the first week of May. But I greatly enjoyed cruising on the X. X. Orcist (yes, that's a reference to the cartoon) down to the Bermuda Shorts Triangle. And now I'm back and have some fresh ideas for keeping things weird.
> 
> Special thanks to my friend Naomi (ryttu3k), who is not part of this fandom but is of Romanian ancestry, for her assistance with geography and the Dracula mythos.

 

 

"So just to get the obvious question out of the way first," said BJ, "we're _not_ visiting Dracula's place, are we?"

"No." Lydia's nose was buried in a Romanian travel guide; he was reminded of the one she'd gotten for their New Orleans trip almost a year earlier. "Castle Bran - his home - is a really amazing place and I'd love to stop in and see it if there's time, but everybody and their brother has delved into the Tepes line. I read recently that the British royal family is said to be descended from Dracula's half-brother, actually," she added. "The Prince of Wales is apparently very invested in preserving the Romanian forests on account of his connections."

"You scare me sometimes, y'know, the way you soak up information."

"You like being scared."

"Eh, I'd rather do the scaring." He stretched a bit, glancing out of the airplane window at the clouds. "All right, so where _are_ we going?"

"Moldavia. It's the region of Romania to the immediate northeast of Transylvania, across the Carpathian Mountains." She pointed at the map, which had the region in question colored in blue.

"Ooh. I like the name - sounds good and moldy, right up my alley." He peered at her book. "Mold isn't blue."

"Oh, BJ." She shook her head. "We'll actually be really close to Transylvania. See this little bit of land that sort of curls northward into Bucovina? It's in the county of..." She squinted, and pointed at the word _Iași_ on the map. "No idea how to pronounce that. There's a commune there that I can't pronounce either." She pointed at the word _Tătăruși_ , adding, "A commune is the smallest administrative subdivision in Romania. Anyway, we'll be heading north of that commune; the castle that the magazine wants me to find is there in the mountains, near the borders of both Bucovina and Transylvania."

"And it definitely doesn't involve Dracula?"

"Nope. In fact, Vince did a little wandering around Tumblr and ended up talking with someone who's studied the whole Dracula thing. It's a common misconception, but Vlad Tepes wasn't even _from_ Transylvania. Well, I mean, he was born there, but he moved away as a little kid. And when he was prince, it was in the Romanian region of Wallachia - much farther south than where we'll be. I guess Stoker picked Transylvania instead to make it more fictional." Lydia shrugged.

"So they've asked you to do this assignment because no one else wants to do it. Y'know, Babes, I can't help feeling like..." He frowned. "Like we're missing something."

"I thought about that too," she admitted. "Something's waiting for us, I think. It just seems..." She gestured sort of aimlessly.

"Convenient?"

"To put it one way, yes."

* * *

The weather was decent, at least, and BJ supposed he ought to be grateful. Once Lyds had found all their luggage at the airport after landing, they made their way to a train station and, by suppertime, were chugging northward to their unpronounceable destinations. The mountains loomed in the not-exactly-distant west, casting ominous shadows over everything as the sun sank behind them.

"Nice and gloomy," he noted approvingly. "What's the name of this place we're trying to find, Babes?"

She pulled out her letter from _Terricula_ and frowned at it. "The magazine editor says that the original name has been lost for ages. It's apparently a very old structure in the foothills of the Carpathians, some long-forgotten fortress of the ancient nobility." She shrugged a little. "The locals nowadays call it _Castel Bufniţă_."

"So... we're going to a place that time forgot in search of a ghost who may or may not exist?" He folded his arms. "Babes, no offense, but it's starting to sound more and more like this outfit is sending you on a wild goose chase - and you _know_ I hate those."

"More like a wild owl chase," she corrected.

"Huh?"

"That's what the castle name means - 'Owl Castle,' literally," she explained. "But why they call it that, I don't know."

"Hmm." BJ drummed his fingers on his sleeve. "Well, maybe that's not so bad. They better pay you good for this, that's all I know."

"Tickets, please," said a new voice, before Lydia could respond. She smiled up at the gentleman peering into their compartment, and handed over the tickets.

As he punched the slips of paper, she asked, "Sir, are you familiar with the northern parts of this county?"

"Yes, miss, I've lived here all my life."

"We're looking for an old castle in the Carpathian borderlands," she said, "and I'm told it's very hard to find. In English it's called _Owl Castle_. Do you know it?"

The conductor hesitated as he handed back the punched tickets, and BJ could see that his complexion had gone just the littlest bit paler. "What you seek, miss, is not worth finding," he said after a moment. "No one knows where the ruins are, but there is scarcely enough of a castle left to deserve the name. If it's castles you wish, Romania has many others much more deserving of your attention." He hurried down the train before she could ask any more questions.

"Okay, that's a dodge if I've ever seen one," BJ grumbled. "Looks like the mag may be onto something after all."

"Well," Lydia noted dryly, "we didn't elope to Transylvania when we considered it. I guess the plot was determined to get us here one way or another."

* * *

They remained on the train overnight, and by noon of the next day they found themselves in one of the little villages which comprised the commune. Over a modest hot lunch, they spoke in low voices and tried to figure out the best way to start the search for their target, but it seemed impossible. "How do we look for something we've been told can't be found?" Lydia wondered. "We don't know where to go, and I don't like the idea of getting lost in the mountain foothills, even with you at my side."

"Hmm." BJ twirled his fork between his fingers, thinking. "Seems to me, Lyds, that if the plot is directing us to the castle, it has business to be giving us a hint."

"That's probably true, but how do we get it to give us one?"

"Appeal to cliche," he decided. He swept his gaze around the restaurant. "Over there. That one," he said, pointing to where an elderly woman sat near a window. Whether she was gazing outside or in the process of dozing off, he wasn't quite sure.

"I don't know, Beej..."

"C'mon, these stories always have some old wise person giving advice to the adventurers! Right? Watch." Ignoring the wife's very apprehensive look, he got up and approached the lady, forcing himself to be almost excruciatingly polite. (Lyds still hadn't completely sold him on that catch-more-flies-with-honey concept, but anything that might result in more flies couldn't be all bad.)

"Excuse me, ma'am, but could I ask you a few questions about this area?" He adopted the most disarming expression his facial muscles could be persuaded to make. "My wife and I are exploring the mountains, and we're looking for a particular place."

There was a pause, in which the woman just stared at him. Then she opened her mouth and began speaking rapid-fire... well, he supposed it was Romanian, but he didn't know enough of it to be sure.

"She doesn't speak English," said another voice, heavily accented and thick with amusement. BJ turned to see a middle-aged man watching them. "She'd be happy to answer your questions, but she hasn't the first idea what you're asking."

"I knew it couldn't be that easy," Lydia muttered, coming to stand next to BJ. More loudly, she said to the man, "We're trying to find the _Castel Bufniţă_. Do you maybe know it, sir?"

Before he could answer, another stream of words, now harsh and excitable, flowed from the old woman's mouth. "The Owl Castle?" the man translated, looking back and forth between the speaker and the strangers. Those sitting nearby had fallen quiet in their own conversations, watching intently, and BJ instinctively put his arm around Lydia's shoulders. "You'll never find it, she says. Many have tried. It's gone."

"Gone?" Lydia repeated.

"It was at least five years ago when the trouble began," he said. "The ruins were untouched for ages - no one even remembers now who built the old castle, or when. But children in the villages began to grow ill, weak, pale. There were many deaths." He paused to listen to the old woman. "One night, an owl was seen flying away from one of the houses where a child was dying. A hunting party formed to follow it, and it led them to where the castle had been. But not a stick or stone remained of the structure, and the owl disappeared before their very eyes - as though it had flown into the building which no longer existed."

BJ and Lydia exchanged glances. "And the children?" she managed.

"Some recovered. Most did not. The work of a _strigoi mort_ , some say - a ghost which feeds on the blood of the living. Young blood is what they like best, maidens and children, though they'll take what they can get. There are many who have attempted to pursue the monster; the lucky ones return without finding anything. Others have disappeared and never come back." He paused again as the woman continued to scold them in Romanian. "She says the ground is cursed where the castle stood. If you're determined to seek it out, head due northwest from the edge of our village - once you've gone far enough into the trees, _it_ will find _you_. But if you have any sense, you'll abandon the idea. To find the Owl Castle is to find your own death."

BJ shrugged. "We've met before."

"Thank you very much," Lydia added hurriedly, seeing the confused look on the man's face. "We'll, uh, we'll just be on our way, then."

* * *

Once they'd paid their bill and more or less fled from the restaurant, Lydia caught BJ by the hand and pulled him into the alley between two buildings. "Does this make any sense to you?" she murmured. "A castle that doesn't exist, but sort of still does, and no one can find it and live to tell the tale?"

"Well, it didn't at first," he said. "But the more I'm thinking about it, the more I'm thinking there _is_ a place where it might really be."

"That's what I'm thinking too - it must be in the Neitherworld!"


	8. On a Fog of Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They found what they were looking for... but what do they do with it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this make sense? I hope it makes sense. It should make at least some kind of sense, even if it's nonsense.
> 
> Of late I find myself concerned about the tone of the series. Cinderjuice was more silly than anything, but from the second story onward I know things have gotten considerably more serious and a bit dark. I hope that's okay.

Following the directions provided (however reluctantly) by the locals, Lydia and BJ started heading north. "It certainly feels weird around here," she commented, "but maybe I'm just feeling like that because I'm expecting to feel it."

"When it comes to weird, Lyds, you're kind of an expert," BJ pointed out. "You married it."

She chuckled. "You make a good point."

The nearer they drew to their presumed objective, however, the less comfortable Lydia felt. Something dark seemed to loom just out of reach, beyond the trees. "No, this definitely feels off," she decided, winding her arm through BJ's almost instinctively. "It's here and it's not here, kind of like the lady said. I can't put it any better than that."

"You sure you wanna do this?" he asked. "We can always tell your editor that the place burned down or something. They'll never know."

"No." She shook her head. "If it was just the assignment, maybe. But whatever's behind all this has been hurting people, BJ. It's killed _kids_. It has to be stopped."

He nodded. "Guess I can't argue with that, but let's be real, Babes. If something's got enough power to pull a whole building into the Neitherworld, and yet still come and go between the two worlds?" His blue human eyes were clouded with unease. "That's something even _I_ can't do, not without your help. So either this is one crazy powerful specter we're talking about, or it's a handful of 'em who've joined forces. Either way, it's bad news, and I don't exactly feel like taking chances with you."

"I see what you mean..."

"Bottom line, BJ and Lydia aren't gonna be much of a match for this _strigoi_ thing."

"Probably not," she admitted. "But I would think that the Ghost With the Most and the Princess of Beetles should be able to handle just about anything together." With a half-smile, she added, "Especially if they really are the Avatars of Life and Death."

"I hate being heroic," he grumbled.

"No, you don't. Anyway, my big scary poltergeist can take on just about anyone," she teased.

"Well. When you're right, you're right," he acknowledged, and Lydia tried not to laugh as he puffed out his chest. "Lay those magic words on me, Babes, and we'll show this bloodsucker who's boss."

* * *

It had taken her a little time to get used to the transition to the Neitherworld now that it also included her physical transformation. When appearing as the Princess of Beetles, Lydia continued to have a pulse, but she was otherwise exactly as she had been during the unsettling period of time following Hugo's faulty ritual almost a year earlier. Her hair was still black, but longer than usual; her large dark eyes were slightly sunken, and her cheeks were hollow and even paler than nature had left them. The silver diadem gifted to her by Prince Vince was automatically positioned atop her head, and she wore a red and black dress reminiscent of the old poncho, with the spider brooch Beetlejuice had given her pinned firmly above her heart.

The poltergeist, brushing off the sleeves of his familiar striped suit, gave her an amused sort of look. "Ready, Princess?"

"As I'll ever be." She felt distinctly uncomfortable. The Neitherworld rarely made Lydia feel anything but welcome and happy to be there, but their current surroundings were shadowy and unsettling. "Do you think maybe we ought to send a message to Prince Vince? I'm sure he doesn't know that one of his subjects is visiting the Outerworld and _hurting_ people."

"No, I bet he doesn't, Lyds, but maybe it's better to get an idea of exactly what we're up against before we call him in." Beetlejuice shrugged. "You represent the crown, y'know. Vince'll back you up on whatever call you make."

"I know. It just..."

"Don't tell me you're scared?"

"No! I - well, not exactly. I don't know how to explain it." She thought a little. "It's like when we were in the cemetery in New Orleans, right before we met Hugo, and you thought someone was watching us. I have that same kind of creepy feeling."

"Hey, someone _was_ watching us."

"I rest my case."

He didn't say anything, but there was very little distance between them as they walked, and she appreciated that. Slowly they continued through the Neitherworld forest, surrounded on all sides by thick brambles and unfriendly trees, and despite the time of year there was a strange chill in the air. As they followed the winding path, it appeared as though the vegetation was becoming sparser.

"... _deadly-vu._ "

They came upon a clearing and abruptly froze in their tracks. Rising against the sky before them was an elegant structure, a modest but imposing castle, clearly centuries old. The keep looked to be some four stories high, with turreted towers at the northeastern and southwestern corners - at least, as far as Lydia could judge direction in this unfamiliar place. The gray stones seemed to be permanently radiating shadow in spite of whatever the weather might be. " _This_ is the ruin they talked about back in the village? This isn't ruined at all!"

"Lots of magic at work here," Beetlejuice noted, sniffing the air a bit. "I'd say whoever's inside must have rebuilt it from whatever was left of the old castle. Made some changes too, I'd guess - look at the owl statues over the door. Ties in with what they told us. Kinda weird, though, I thought these guys liked bats. Not owls."

"So now what do we do?" Lydia wondered. "We need to get inside somehow."

"We could pretend we're selling Sappy Face Ghoul cookies," he suggested.

"No," she replied shortly. "We could just act like we're lost travelers... I think that's how Jonathan Harker got inside Castle Dracula in the book, or something similar - it's been a while since I read it."

"What do you mean, no? Geez, you make one batch of oversized anthropomorphic cookies that threaten to kill people and you never live it down," he grumbled.

"You made _multiple_ batches. Look, we'll go up and knock on the door. Worst thing that happens is that we can't get past the butler."

* * *

There was no butler. Instead, they walked up a magnificent stone staircase to the main entrance, and when Lydia knocked, the door swung slowly inward. As they peered into the corridor beyond, candles lit themselves, as though urging them to enter. The scene both beckoned to Lydia and urged her to run.

"Well, that's not remotely suspicious," she muttered, taking Beetlejuice's arm. "Maybe we should go."

Almost by way of a response, a strong gust of wind blew up behind them, pressuring them across the threshold. They had barely gotten clear of the door when it slammed itself shut behind them, and though Lydia seized the handle and pulled with all her strength, it would not move. A thrill of terror washed through her.

"We're trapped," she said in a voice that was desperately trying not to be frightened. "What do we do, Beej?"

"Might be best for you to juice us back to the flip side," he mused, frowning. "I don't like the look of this place at all."

"Please," said a new voice, echoing across the entrance hall, "do not be so alarmed. It is my great honor to welcome you to my humble abode; pray let me get a look at you."

The speaker's voice was heavily accented, but his English, Lydia noted, was flawless. She turned around, carefully, and peered around Beetlejuice (who was doing his best to shield her from observation). Gliding toward them was a tall figure, so pale that his skin was nearly tinged blue, draped in rippling garments of not black but rather a soft brown. His face was pointed, his eyes large and hooded, and he blinked at them rather owlishly, she couldn't help but think.

"I have waited years for this day," he said, his tone evidently pleased. "I had hoped that the Prince himself would be the one to pay his respects to me and acknowledge my nobility. But you come on his behalf; I am certainly most sincerely grateful for the visit of a royal emissary."

It took Lydia a few seconds to realize that he was staring - almost hungrily in fact - at her tiara. "Er... yes." She decided to play along, stepping clear of Beetlejuice's shadow. "On behalf of my brother the Prince... I am here to... to meet you, er..."

"Vasile. In life I was a distant son of the ancient and noble house of Dragoș, once lost among the peasants of Moldavia. Now I am but another subject of His Funerary Highness, and your servant, Princess." He took Lydia's hand and kissed it.

"So you're a moldy oldy, huh?" Beetlejuice deadpanned. He had his arms folded, clearly not pleased.

Their host fixed him with a withering look before turning his attention back to Lydia. "I cannot claim to have heard much of you, Princess, but I am honored to welcome you all the same. You and your... ah... retainer?" Vasile's voice dripped with sincerity and supplication until the last word, which was filled with disdain.

"Her husband," Beetlejuice corrected him coolly.

"Is that so?"

Vasile's eyebrows lifted, and his lip curled back in the faintest sneer. He glanced again at Lydia, and she guessed he was looking for corroboration, so she nodded. "If you'll permit me, my lord - my name is Lydia, and I'm called the Princess of Beetles ever since Prince Vince adopted me as his honorary sister. You've probably at least heard of my husband - this is Beetlejuice."

"Beetlejuice," Vasile repeated slowly. "Wait... _the_ Beetlejuice?"

"The one and only."

"Well. That... is interesting. I welcome you both, then."

* * *

At Vasile's insistence, they followed him through his castle to a dining chamber, where polished gold candelabra made the shadows dance as they seated themselves. "You catch me unprepared to properly entertain visitors, especially one deserving of so much respect as yourself, Princess. Still, I can at least offer a little wine and feasting."

"You're too kind, my lord. Really, we don't want to impose."

"Nonsense. You've journeyed so far to extend me this courtesy; hospitality is the least of what you are due." He seated himself at the head of the table and watched her intently. "May I ask why your royal brother did not come himself?"

"I - that is -"

"What she means," Beetlejuice interjected smoothly, "is that she's still learning all the finer points of being the Princess. So His Highness is giving her different jobs to help her ease into it. Obviously, visiting a nobleman of your stature was a _very_ important task, and one that he thought she really needed to experience. So by sending Lydia in his place, Prince Vince is entrusting you to help with her royal education." He glanced at her, and winked where Vasile couldn't see.

Lydia had to admire the way he came out with that so easily. True, he had the soul of a con artist sometimes, but on occasions like this it was remarkably helpful. Vasile, for his part, looked like he wasn't sure whether to be annoyed or gratified. "The Prince does me too much honor," he said finally. "You will, of course, allow me to do justice to his trust by remaining here as my guests for a few days."

She glanced quickly at Beetlejuice, but he clearly didn't know what to say either. "Well... if you insist, my lord," she conceded after a pause.

"Oh, I do, Princess. I do indeed."


	9. A Hundred Years to a Steadfast Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reader gets to see things from Vasile's point of view. He's not a very nice guy. /understatement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter insisted on being something completely different. For the first time in this series, you get to see things from the villain's perspective - because I could find no better way to illustrate his backstory. He's a complex fellow, but feel free to hate him all you want.
> 
> A lot of the information I provide here is accurate to vampiric legends concerning the strigoi mort, although I did tweak bits of it to make it fit better with the Neitherworld. As is so often the case, many thanks to Bookworm Gal for assisting with the research.
> 
> The witches and warlock are characters from the episode "Bewitched, Bothered, and Beetlejuiced." I watched it again to make sure (research!) but none of them had names mentioned, apart from "Mr. Warlock," so I had to make them up myself.

If Vasile were to have a proper discussion with someone about the time when he had been alive, and what had happened once he no longer was, the other person would very quickly come to the conclusion that a lot of the details didn't entirely make sense. In fairness, he himself would have to admit that the facts were really falsehoods - except that he knew they were true.

He had lived centuries earlier, though how long precisely even he did not know; and, as he had told the Princess, he was related to a cadet branch of the family of Moldavia's original ruling prince. The crowning achievement of his life was reclaiming an old family castle, fully intending to use this victory as a stepping stone to asserting his legacy in full. But his plan fell through when a rival - a distant cousin whose name he had long since cursed into oblivion - murdered him on the very steps of his newly-gained home.

His anger was unspeakable. Fevered by the outrage, half mad with the desire for vengeance, he had returned as a ghost, and torn his cousin's throat open - spilling the blood they shared. His slaughter thus avenged, Vasile turned his undead energies to beginning what seemed an impossible task. Oblivious to the passage of time, he worked for decades to bring his castle, piece by piece, into the afterlife with him. Single-mindedly he slaved over the details and removing evidence of the structure from the mortal realm and rebuilding it to his wishes in the Neitherworld, and all the while he grew increasingly obsessed with carnage. Not content with the death of his murderer, he longed for more.

It manifested, ultimately, as bloodlust. No mere ghost was he - Vasile, lord of his domain, was the dreaded _strigoi mort_. He was neither vampire nor poltergeist, but both at once, and all who crossed his path cowered in terrified respect. That, he thought, was his due. Let the quaking villagers try to destroy him; he was safe from them so long as _Castel Bufniţă_ stood, and it stood where they could never hope to find him.

The _strigoi_ have their limits, however, as he learned. He could not venture beyond the villages of the commune in search of prey, and while he wore the owl's form he was vulnerable to attack. But the old legends served him well, and he read all that he could find which would teach him about himself. Seven years had to pass, seven years in which he would grow strong on the blood of the young, and only then would he be free to travel beyond the limits of the commune. This puzzled him, for he of course had been dead for much longer than that already.

He needed answers. Though Vasile was unable to go far in the living realm, he was as permitted as any other ghost to traverse the Neitherworld; and so he therefore set out in search of someone who could better instruct him as to how to gain this freedom which dangled out of reach. It was while on this quest that he came to what he regarded as a very mortifying discovery.

The Neitherworld was colorful, cheerful, warped, and _silly_.

* * *

Under the rulership of a young-looking ghost who took refuge in poetry and drama, how could the dead ever hope to claim their rightful dignity? Vasile was almost offended by the whole thing. His fellow ghosts had little fear of anything, including him - all his powers, frightening as they were to mortals, rendered him an ineffectual threat to his spectral brethren. They cavorted about, enjoying death, troubled by little.

Further displeasure followed as he discovered that ghosts seemed to fear only one thing, really - a prank-playing miscreant called Beetlejuice. His powers were considerable, his potential enormous, but he could scarcely be bothered to do anything worthwhile with them. Apparently he was content to spend his days irritating everyone within reach, and the only real anxiety which appeared to plague the rest of the population was a concern that he might, one day, elect to overthrow the realm. He had the ability, they said, but so long as he lacked the initiative, all would be well.

Insulting to his sensibilities as the exploration proved to be, Vasile did manage to form a few useful acquaintances during the course of the venture. He encountered a small coven of witches (and one warlock) who were appropriately impressed to meet a genuine _strigoi mort_ , rather than the pathetic excuses for vampires which the Neitherworld normally afforded. In their eagerness to show him proper respect, they offered to use their powers to study and clarify his situation.

"The _strigoi mort_ does not spread his influence through biting his victims, as an ordinary vampire might," explained the chief witch, Ermengarde. "He must find a bride, a _living_ bride, by whom he may sire his infernal children. And yes, I mean that exactly the way it sounds."

"Find her," added another witch, "and keep her at your side for those seven years. This will be the means by which to break your confinement. You will be free to torment those beyond the villages, and to bring a generation of your own kind into being."

"But where do I find this woman?" Vasile asked.

"Don't look at me," muttered Oscar, the lone warlock. "I can't even get a date with a dead girl."

* * *

Vasile returned to _Castel Bufniţă_ , frustrated but determined. He had to be patient, that was all. Sooner or later, he would stumble across the perfect woman to sustain him, and then everything would proceed according to what the witches had said.

Of course, he wasn't expecting her to literally knock on his door, some years later. But there she was, standing in his entrance hall, and even as he approached her, even before she spoke her name, he _knew_.

Princess Lydia. How elegantly it flowed on the tongue. The Princess of Beetles, come to serve as mistress of his castle.

That his fair princess was mortal, he could recognize at once. Her disguise was thorough, to be sure, but there was no concealing the sound and the scent of warm, fresh blood pulsing through human veins. She was aristocracy, too; while it was true that her being adopted royalty suggested the likelihood of common birth, it was good enough for his purposes, and her nearness to the Neitherworld throne would only enhance the nobility of his own bloodline. Young, healthy, charming, and doubtless able to bear his dhampyr sons - yes, she was perfect.

Well. Almost. She did have one rather large fault that could hardly be ignored.

So Beetlejuice's powers extended beyond what Vasile could have imagined. The poltergeist, who should never have been able to attach _anybody_ , had taken a bride of mortal flesh - a privilege the _strigoi_ felt should have been reserved for himself. He had to learn more, and to that end, he watched them carefully throughout the meal.

The Princess, he noted, ate little and drank even less; his offers of wine were most steadily resisted. They had eaten recently, she claimed, and she wasn't very hungry. Beetlejuice was content to eat almost anything that wandered across his plate - rather literally, in fact, as demonstrated when a spider had the misfortune to drop onto the table. Lydia simply turned her head, but Vasile was disgusted. The only thing more appalling than the other ghost's dining preferences was the genuine attachment he could detect on both sides in their interactions. That her affection should be given to such an apparition was sickening.

Once the Princess and her repulsive husband were quartered for the night, Vasile transfigured into his owl aspect. He needed to feed, but more than that, he needed answers. The first was easily found; the second required a visit to the coven.

* * *

"My friends," he greeted the witches, regaining his proper form, "I need your help."

"Your Lordship! We weren't expecting the pleasure," said Ermengarde, looking up from her book of spells. "And so late at night too. What can we do for you?"

"It has taken me a long time, but at last I've found her - the human bride you advised me to seek. But there is a difficulty, for she is already married to another ghost."

He disliked the way they exchanged baffled glances before looking at him. "You don't mean - you _can't_ mean - not Beetlejuice?" said one witch.

"He must," said another. "That's the only ghost-human marriage in existence, or at least as far as I know."

"That is who I mean, yes." Vasile's impatience was growing, and when the entire coven proceeded to laugh, he was even more displeased.

"Best forget that one, Your Lordship," remarked Ermengarde. "There's no parting those two. They're under contract to the Fairy Godfather himself!"

"The whom?"

"Possibly the most powerful being in the Neitherworld," said Oscar. "He's even determined that they represent Life and Death itself, and if he says so, then it's almost certainly true. No, sire, there's no breaking them apart against their will."

"But she's ideal!" the _strigoi_ raged. "She's everything I've been trying to find! Surely there's something that can be done?"

The witches exchanged glances again, more thoughtful this time. "Well..." said Ermengarde, slowly, "there _might_ be a way."

"You can't part them against their will," explained another witch, Ilsa. "But if you can persuade the Princess that her good-for-nothing husband has left her, it may give you the opening you need."

"And it so happens," added Oscar, darkly, "that we have a bit of a score of our own to settle with Beetlejuice. Or at least, I do."

"Are you _still_ pining for Beatrice?" asked Ermengarde, exasperated. "It's been years!"

"She was my dream ghoul, okay? I don't expect you to understand!" He looked at Vasile again. "In any case, Your Lordship, go back to your castle. Give us - well, give me - a few days to find just the right spell. I'll be in touch, you can be sure of that."


	10. And Do Not Fail Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Vasile returns to his castle to stew and plot, we check in with some other friends. Also, Prince Vince apparently has discovered TV Tropes... mercy be upon him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some cameos and fourth wall nudging. There's actually a point to this, believe it or not.

_Meanwhile, at the Fairy Godfather's castle..._

* * *

"All right, so you've told me the basics. How bad is it, really?"

"I would venture to say he poses at least a great a threat as Erebos did." The Fairy Godfather considered his own words, studying the reflective surface of the brass standing mirror on his desk. "No, actually, more of one. We now know for certain that this Lord Vasile has already been the cause of a number of deaths, and he's got sufficient power to enable him to cross the Veil at will. If he does manage to successfully isolate our dear Avatars from one another, he could be potentially devastating, and in more ways than one."

"So what do you plan to do, now that you're all caught up on your Tumbling?"

"I'll have to confer with Prince Vince. Since his investing Lydia with the royal title somewhat impacts the situation, he'll consider himself to be directly involved now. Together we'll think of something."

"I wouldn't discount BJ and Lydia themselves either, you know. They're pretty crafty. More to the point, they're together at the moment - as long as they can stay that way, they'll be able to at least keep things from getting any worse."

"You're right, of course," he allowed. "Lydia may call him her idiot, and perhaps not without reason, but they're both fairly astute and they're at their best when they stand side by side. It just remains to be seen whether they can manage to stay together in spite of forces conspiring against them."

"Well, it's not as though it's the first time _that's_ happened."

"It probably won't be the last, either; as I said to the prince on another occasion, consider who we're discussing. And this time we do manage to have something of an upper hand, at least. We know a portion of the enemy's plans before they're properly put into motion. What we lack is a way to warn the two of them."

"No; I suppose they can't very well access that Tumblr thing inside the castle. Hugo's been talking about creating an account so we can stay in the loop, but he's not much quicker with computers than he is with spells." Lady Delphine paused, and sighed. "At least this didn't happen until after you explained the prophecy to them."

"I'm not sure how much good that knowledge is doing them, to tell you the truth. The offspring business in particular seemed to catch them very much by surprise." He smiled. "You'd think they'd never even considered the possibility."

"Maybe they didn't. Just because you've effectively adopted them and you're angling for surrogate grandchildren doesn't mean it had ever crossed _their_ minds." She chuckled.

"Someone's projecting, I think."

"We're not that different. In any case, do keep me informed of any new developments, won't you? Especially if there's something I can do on this side to help."

"As soon as I know anything, I'll be in touch," he promised.

"And you still owe me a rematch, you know."

"You won't be satisfied until you win, will you?"

"I'd have won at least twice by now if you weren't so insistent about the Free Parking thing."

"Rules are rules, my dear Delphine. It doesn't do to bend them; it gives the appearance of favoritism." He smirked a little. "One has to avoid such intimations, you know, regardless of affection."

"Psh. You're impossible." Her tone was fond.

"I prefer to think of myself as merely improbable, but that's rather beside the point. Once the Avatars are safely back on your side, I'll be at your disposal for the rematch."

"All right."

* * *

_Ripple dissolve to Prince Vince's castle..._

* * *

"Do you ever get the feeling," said the prince, thoughtfully, "that your actions aren't really much more than a plot device?"

"You sound like my brother," said Donny. "Sometimes Beetlejuice goes on about the plot like it's a sentient being."

Donny was sitting on the bed in the Beetleman farmhouse, communicating with the prince through Lydia's old mirror. On his end, Prince Vince had the full-length mirror which had once been in the Roadhouse; Lydia had relocated it to her rooms at the castle when Beetlejuice had given up tenancy of his old home. Now and then the prince paced back and forth as they spoke.

"Honestly, I'm not sure he's wrong with some of what he says about it," he admitted. "Every so often I have this strange impression that some of what we endure is a little too contrived. Have you heard from your brother since he left?"

"Just a short call from Lydia, to say that they'd landed safely in Romania and were preparing to board a train north. I wasn't sure whether I'd be hearing from them again any time soon." Donny looked troubled. "Are things really that bad?"

"No - not yet, at least. They could be, if what I read on Tumblr is any indication. I expect I'll be hearing from the Fairy Godfather soon; I daresay he'll have some ideas on the subject." He sighed. "I really do despise love triangles, you know. They're so absurdly overused in fiction! Most of my own Tumblr followers seem to think so too."

"Can you really call this a triangle?" Donny wondered.

"An open-sided triangle," the prince amended. "I looked it up on the internet. Triang Relations, type four - A wants B, who is in a committed relationship with C."

"Type _four_? How many types are there?"

"More than a dozen. There was even a flow chart."

"Was this on Tumblr?"

"Oh, no, my friend. There's a website which is much more soul-devouring than Tumblr, where all manner of storytelling devices are explored and explained." He shook his head. "You must never go there."

Donny shook his head too. "Well, I don't claim to understand what you're talking about, but I suppose it doesn't matter. The important thing is that Beetlejuice and Lydia are in danger again, and we've got to help them. But how?"

"That indeed is the question. I suppose I could venture to make an official visit to the castle myself; Beetlejuice gave a clever explanation for why I would send Lydia in my stead, sufficient to smooth their host's ruffled feathers. But the truth is that I had no idea this individual even existed, much less that he was..." He shuddered. "He has to be stopped, I cannot deny that."

"What's been done? Is there anything I can do? I feel so trapped here!"

Vince pondered the matter. "If you can do some research on vampires, and the _strigoi mort_ in particular, it may help us," he mused. "I don't know whether Lydia has any books on the subject herself, but you could likely borrow Doomie and pay a visit to the library. The internet has a vast deal of information, but it also tends to contradict itself sometimes. And that's without even delving into the comments sections. In any case, it would give you something to do that would be of use."

"I'll head out in the morning after breakfast," Donny promised.

"I understand that you feel a bit useless. I'm sure I could pull you back to this side, and if I couldn't I know the Godfather could. But it might be best for you to stay where you are. One brother in danger is bad enough; we can't risk Vasile threatening the both of you."

"You're too kind. But I know my brother, Vince. He's almost certainly not aware that he's in any particular danger - Vasile is going to have to do something overt toward Lydia before Beetlejuice picks up on it."

"That's honestly what worries me," the prince admitted. "By the time Vasile does that, it may be too late for anyone to intervene. He's proceeding with caution, I suspect, and there's no way to know what that warlock plans to do to assist him."

"Couldn't you have the warlock arrested?"

"On what grounds? That I read a work of supposed fiction which indicates that he plans to assist a vampire in an unspecified manner? The laws of the Neitherworld aren't so easily bent, even by me."

"I guess you're right. Innocent until proven guilty is the way it's meant to be." Donny sighed. "Let's think about this. There must be something we can do in the here and now."

"Hm." Vince put a hand to his chin, thinking. "Well, what I really need is a more direct means of monitoring the situation."

"Monitoring... Vince, old chum, that gives me an idea."

* * *

_One more ripple dissolve..._

* * *

Meanwhile, at the Neitherworld Network Studios, Mr. Monitor - apparently having learned a few things from Prince Vince during his appearance in a previous story - was reading Tumblr.

"Ahahahaha!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully. "So! At it again, are you, Beetlejuice? You'll help me make ratings history a second time! Or is it a third? Oh, who cares, this is gold!"

He swiveled his chair around and started snapping his fingers at the assorted technicians in the room. "You - I want a camera crew following that owl. He's brown, he's cranky, he shouldn't be too hard to find. And somebody figure out a way to get recording equipment into the castle, I don't want to miss a minute of the action. This is gonna be big! I smell a blockbuster for the evening lineup!"

"What exactly is going on, sir?" asked a nearby assistant.

"I'll circulate a memo explaining the details. All you really need to know for starters is that Beetlejuice is camping out in a vampire's castle and there's shenanigans developing. The vampire's got designs on what's her name! Who knows where this could lead!"

"Er... don't you think someone ought to _warn_ them, sir?" asked another production assistant, warily.

"Warn them? Are you crazy!?" Monitor stared at the assistant as though personally affronted by the suggestion. "Who are you? You're fired! Get back to the mailroom!"

He turned back to the computer to start making notes. Before he could so much as order someone to refill his cup of coffee, however, the nearby telephone started to ring.

"Neitherworld Network, Monitor speaking. Oh... hello, Your Highness. Uh. Tumblr? No, no, I haven't seen it," he mumbled, crossing his fingers as he spoke. "Uh-huh... uh-huh... really? You don't say?" He tugged at his collar, letting off a small cloud of steam. "Of course. Of course! Always happy to be of service, Your Highness! Ahahaha!" He hung up the phone, scowling.

"The Prince doesn't want this televised?" guessed a different assistant.

"Of course he does!" Mr. Monitor snapped. "It's his best chance to keep an eye on those two. He just doesn't want me cutting deals with this Romanian character, or any of the other usual suspects like the last time. He's such a wet blanket sometimes, honestly."

"Not exactly the patriotic sort, are you, boss?" muttered the recently demoted employee, who was packing up his desk.


	11. Free to Go His Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Owl Castle seems to have a mind of its own, Monitor's crew sets up shop, and Lydia schemes. The plot continues to have its way with our heroes.

Lydia was growing very suspicious.

To say she was suspicious of Vasile would be like saying that Beetlejuice was mildly fond of spider cookies (the kind made with real spiders). She had walked into the situation forewarned, forearmed with the understanding of what he was and what he had done. Even without that prior knowledge, his malevolent red eyes and unsettling courtesies would have placed her on her guard immediately.

No, what she hadn't anticipated was that _the castle itself_ would set its will against her. That was what disturbed her most.

For the first two or three days, she might have been content to believe she was imagining things. It was a strange place, after all, even to someone who was intimately acquainted (in more ways than one) with the strange and unusual. One would naturally expect a haunted castle to be weird, and Owl Castle certainly delivered. It had no clocks and no mirrors, which more or less made sense given that its master was a sort of vampire. It was also as adorned with owl imagery inside as it was outside, and the round faces and unblinking eyes gave the strong impression that she was being watched. In fact, all things considered, she wasn't completely persuaded that she was not.

Harder to accept was the darkness. Vasile, she supposed, could see well in the dark; not only was he dead, or undead, but he could turn himself into an owl, so this fit. But she was never able to see more than her own immediate surroundings. Lamps and candelabra would spring to life as she approached, then extinguish themselves as she walked away, leaving her with just a pool of light illuminating her steps at a given moment. With nothing but her mortal eyes to guide her, she would have fared badly on her own.

Fortunately, she _wasn't_ alone, and Beetlejuice was only too willing to transfigure himself into a black and white striped flashlight. "You'd think this Vasile guy was terrified of his electric bill or something, the way he keeps this place," he remarked, casting a ray of light into a particularly shadowed corner. The owl statues seemed to glare at them from on high.

"It's freaky. And I usually love freaky, but this is a little too much even for me."

"Well," he said after a moment's pause, "we could just... leave."

"Leave?"

"You took the pictures, right?"

"As best I could, yes."

"Then we could get out of here. You've got what you really came for, after all. We don't have to deal with him all by ourselves."

She considered that. "It's the middle of the day, so he's asleep," she noted, quietly. "Okay, let's try it. We can go to the prince and come back with help."

Beetlejuice regained his usual form and they crept down the carpeted stairs, trying not to draw attention to themselves. The front door was in sight, and Lydia suddenly felt the powerful urge to rush it - light and fresh air lay just beyond, and it seemed like she was starved for both.

It was when she placed both of her hands on the ornate handle and attempted to pull it open that she realized things were much worse than she'd allowed herself to believe.

"Is it stuck?" Beetlejuice asked.

"I - don't - know," she grunted, twisting and turning and tugging with all her might. "It - won't - open!"

"Babes, you're gonna hurt yourself. Let me try." Pulling her gently to the side, he seized the door with his own hands and, clearly anticipating similar difficulty, pulled as hard as he could. The door instantly flung itself open, almost sending him flying, sunlight beckoning. "Lyds, you've gotta start eatin' your Wheaties or something!"

"Hmm." Still suspicious, but grateful to see the outdoors, she started to cross the threshold.

* * *

"Babes! Speak to me!"

A few minutes later she regained consciousness, and blinked up at the anxious face of her husband. He was tapping her cheeks gently with his fingertips, and after a few seconds she realized she was lying on the floor.

"What - what happened, Beej?"

He picked her up carefully and dusted her off. "The second you tried to walk out the door, something sent you flying across the room. I couldn't even grab you, you went by so fast - you just tumbled straight over the couch and crashed on the floor." He peered into her eyes, still troubled. "I couldn't get a lick of sense out of you for a couple minutes. Are you okay?"

"I think so... but what knocked me back?"

Beetlejuice grimaced. "If I had to guess, I'd say there's some kind of magic keeping us trapped here." He paused, eyeing her thoughtfully. "Then again... maybe it's more like there's some kind of magic keeping _you_ trapped here."

"Me?!"

"Well, I was able to open the door and you weren't. I bet if I'd stepped outside, the door would have slammed behind me."

"But why would Vasile want to keep me here?"

He scowled. "That, Wifey-Babes, is one of those questions where I know the answer is gonna be something I don't like."

* * *

The only times they really saw their "host" was at dinner, when he would insist on sitting with them at his lengthy table. Lydia was too hungry to refuse food outright, but she ate as little as she could; she didn't have any way of knowing what exactly she was eating, and the possibilities were stomach-churning. She also steadfastly declined Vasile's repeated offers of wine.

"You don't care for wine, Princess?" he inquired pleasantly.

"I..." How to respond? _I can't be sure you're giving me actual wine_ sounded a little too rude. _I don't trust you as far as I can throw you_ was even worse. She met Beetlejuice's eyes across the table.

Abruptly, she recalled something Beetlejuice had said to her not long before their trip, and the best possible answer came to her in a flash.

"I'm pregnant," she said. "I can't have anything with alcohol for several months, it's too dangerous."

Beetlejuice's eyes looked ready to fall out of his head, and she tried her best to silently command him to _play along_. After a moment, he must have gotten at least the bare bones of what she was trying to communicate, because he relaxed and settled back in his chair. "Yep."

Vasile, on the other hand, had reacted to the news by clutching his own wine glass so hard it shattered in his fingers. "Ah - clumsy me," he grumbled, gesturing vaguely to clean up the mess by magic. This was lucky, Lydia thought; it was probably the distraction which caused him to miss Beetlejuice's initial bewilderment. "Well. My congratulations to you both."

"Thank you," she replied sweetly. "We're very excited. We only just found out shortly before we came, we haven't even told anyone else yet - you're the first one to share our big news."

"How happy you must be," he managed, his crimson eyes fixed on her.

"Sure hope so," Beetlejuice said nonchalantly, twirling a spoon between his fingers. "You know what they say - happy wife, happy afterlife. I'm pretty excited myself, too. We're gonna call him Junior."

"No, we aren't," she replied with a chuckle.

He smirked, and glanced at Vasile, putting up one hand as though to conceal the side of his mouth. "We're still negotiating the name," he said conspiratorially, "but I'll wear her down yet."

"In any case, we should be getting back to the palace soon," she continued. "My royal brother will want the details of our visit, and I can't wait to tell him he's going to be an uncle."

"Oh, but you've only just arrived," Vasile protested, more smoothly now. "It would be my distinct honor to have you remain as a guest for at least a few more days. Surely he -"

The words were cut off by the chiming of a bell. "Ah. Excuse me, it seems we have another visitor."

The second he was gone from the dining hall, Beetlejuice sat up straight. "Are you _really_?" he muttered in a low voice.

"No," she hissed. "But there's no way I'm drinking any of his wine - if that's really what it even is. I figured that was the best excuse I could offer; he can't argue with it."

"Ohh. Okay."

Vasile returned a few minutes later, and Lydia thought he seemed to be tucking something into the folds of his cloak. "My apologies. It was a... colleague of mine, bringing me something I had requested. Now, where we we?"

"We were talking about our needing to get home," Lydia reminded him.

"Quite. At least, Princess, give me the pleasure of being able to entertain you in my household until the end of the week? Surely our good Prince Vince can spare you so long as that?"

"I..." Was there really a way out of this? "I suppose that's... all right."

* * *

It was soon tolerably evident that Mr. Monitor's camera people were on the scene.

They were taking unusually great pains to keep themselves out of sight, since Lydia never actually _saw_ any of them. However, while exploring the castle a bit more, she occasionally overheard them speaking to one another.

"This is a waste of time. This Vasile guy never shows up on film anyway!"

"Who cares? Boss isn't interested in _him_ , he just wants the other two and their wacky hijinks."

"Yeah, but if something doesn't happen soon we might all get fired."

"Well, we can't interfere. Prince's orders."

That was reassuring. Prince Vince was undoubtedly keeping tabs on the situation via Tumblr, and he knew that things weren't right. But just _how_ not right they were didn't become fully clear to Lydia until the following night at dinner. Vasile was present, of course; he was punctual almost to a fault.

Beetlejuice, on the other hand, never materialized.

"Have you seen my husband, my lord?" she inquired politely, trying to swallow a growing sense of panic.

"Not since last evening, Princess. I'm surprised, really; he's so often found wherever you are."

"Yes, we don't separate often," she agreed. "But I lay down for a nap this afternoon - I had a headache - and when I woke up he wasn't there. I assumed I'd see him now, if not sooner."

"Strange indeed. Well, he can't have gone far, I expect. Not with you still here. In the meantime, I shall endeavor to make amends for his absence by supplying my own companionship."

"How considerate."

"I can understand you not wishing to partake of the wine," he continued, "given your delicate condition. But surely you realize you're not eating enough to sustain both you and the child?"

"I get so ill," she explained. "Pregnancy sickness, you know. So I eat a little bit continuously throughout the day to keep it at bay. It's an old wives' trick I learned a long time ago, and always meant to try when my time came." This, at least, was the truth - not her eating habits, of course, but she _had_ learned that particular trick from a pregnant teacher in college, and had filed it away for possible future use.

"A wise woman," he noted approvingly.

The conversation continued in the vein of largely meaningless chatter throughout the meal, but still Beetlejuice didn't show. Lydia was finally able to excuse herself for the night, half hoping that he was asleep in the little suite of rooms Vasile had provided them. But there was no sign of him at all.

"He couldn't have left," she mused, combing her hair. "Could he? I mean, I guess he _could_ , he's not physically incapable, but I don't believe he _would_. Not unless he had a really good reason for going without me. Which he'd better, if that's what he did." She sighed and flopped onto the bed, tired and worried. "The bigger problem is, if he _didn't_ , then where is he now?"


	12. Forest of Thorns Shall Be His Tomb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beetlejuice had a really good reason for not turning up at dinner in the last chapter. And by really good, I mean really bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally, the big question on everyone's minds after the last chapter is "Where the heck did BJ go?" Well, he hasn't gone very far, just... far enough.

Like Lydia, Beetlejuice was plenty suspicious about things. Most particularly, he didn't have a whole lot of appreciation for the way Vasile looked at _her_. Whether or not she had formed any suspicions about that particular thing, he wasn't sure, but he was irritated enough for both of them.

He was, after all, a selfish sort. Yes, he'd improved in that vein somewhat over the years, owing to the wife's gentle influence, but he could still be pretty possessive about the things he considered his. And nothing had ever been more _his_ than Lydia. He was equal parts possessive and paranoid where she was concerned; he couldn't help it. He'd come close to losing her too many times to be otherwise.

In this specific instance, he was pretty sure he wasn't being paranoid. Vasile had looked practically furious at the news that he and Lydia were married. They didn't see him often, but whenever they did he was constantly watching her, speaking to her, offering her his attention. And the look in his eyes while he studied her... Beetlejuice couldn't help but recognize it.

Exactly _why_ Mr. Fangs For The Memories wanted his Lyds, he didn't know. The why didn't really matter. What mattered was that Vasile definitely _did_ want her, and Beetlejuice was quite possibly the only thing standing in his way.

This was probably not the safest place to stand, really.

But he wouldn't be moved easily. Not when he was in front of her.

* * *

"It's just a headache, Beej," she said.

"You're sure you're not really... y'know?"

"I'm as sure as I can be without access to a doctor," Lydia retorted. "Look, I'll be fine, I'm just going to take a nap. I'm not exactly eating a whole lot, it's taking a toll on me."

"I'm kind of glad you're not," he admitted. "Who knows what he might be slipping into the stuff he's serving."

"It doesn't seem to stop _you_ from eating it," she observed with a little smile.

"I'm already dead, Babes. He can't exactly poison _me_. You're a different story."

At her insistence, Beetlejuice left her to take a nap in peace, and decided to amuse himself by wandering around the castle. Unlike when Lydia roamed the halls, however, the lamps and candles ignored him and refused to light. This wasn't a real issue, since he could see better in the dark than she could and he could always turn himself into a light source if needed; but that didn't make it any less rude on their part. "Hmph. Who needs you anyway," he muttered.

"We do," grumbled a different voice.

"Quiet, he'll hear you!"

Beetlejuice squinted up at the shadowed ceiling, which seemed to be the origin of the voices. "Lemme guess," he said after a pause. "Monitor's crew, right?"

"Uh... yeah, heh," said the second voice. "Sorry, Beetlejuice."

"Hey, no problem. Somebody ought to keep an eye on things around here. Just stay out of our rooms, okay? Lyds ain't feelin' great today."

"Oh, yeah, we're under strict orders not to go past your door."

"Not that we'd want to," muttered the first speaker.

"Shh!"

"Look, all I'm saying is, some things can never be unseen. And I'd just as soon not see them. Especially where _he's_ concerned."

Chuckling quietly to himself, Beetlejuice continued his explorations, pointedly ignoring the glares of the owl figures. There were _way_ too many owls in this place, really. But as he rounded a corner, he heard a new sound - the creaking of a door.

"Hmm... never went this way before," he said to himself, mostly for the benefit of whoever was watching. "Could be something useful up these stairs. This must be one of those towers we saw from outside."

The steep staircase had no handrail or protective measures of any kind, which might have worried him more if he weren't already levitating. The individual steps were made of stone, and their edges were jagged and unfriendly as they wound around the inside of the tower wall, leading him up to a small round room at the top. "Odd place, this." He peered around thoughtfully, noting the two small, red-curtained windows on either side of the little chamber. The room itself was empty except for one thing.

"A spinning wheel?" He floated over and circled it, studying the antique carefully. "Didn't think they made those anymore. Haven't seen one in at least a century. Wait, there's a note."

The note was impaled on the spinning wheel's spindle, and he pulled it free in order to peer closely at its message. For the sake of the viewers he read it out loud. "Spindle is not sharp. Please feel free to handle. In no way dangerous." Snorting, he cast a wry glance at the darkened ceiling, which was where he presumed the camera to be situated.

"Now, I _know_ what you're thinkin'," he said. "You're thinkin' that I'm about to do something _really, really stupid_. But come on. If you can't trust a note, found in the tower of a haunted castle belonging to an evil vampire ghost and written in what kind of looks like blood, well..." He paused. "Actually, that does sound really, really stupid when I say it out loud. Unfortunately, I have my doubts that the plot is just going to let me walk away from this."

Sure enough, as Beetlejuice returned the note to its original spot, the spindle - almost as if compelled by, say, magic - caught the skin of his hand and jabbed him quite unpleasantly. "Ow! Hey, that hurt! This message lied!" He cast a derisive look at the ceiling and added, dryly, "What are the odds?"

Backing away from the spinning wheel, he looked at his injured hand. It wasn't bleeding, at least not very much, but there was definitely something not right. Of course, that could also have been the fact that the room was suddenly and rather violently tilting sideways. "Uh-oh."

As the floor rushed up to meet him, the last thing he could think to say was, simply, "Damn plot. You know _I_ hate it."

* * *

When the warlock had promised to assist Vasile, this wasn't quite what he had in mind.

That was, of course, who had arrived in the middle of dinner, just after he'd received the _extremely_ unsettling news that Princess Lydia was, in fact, infected with the disgusting ghoul's hellspawn-in-progress. He'd welcomed an excuse to leave the table, in truth, and seeing Oscar on his doorstep was also promising.

"All right, Your Lordship, here's what I've got," he said. The warlock brandished a vial at him. "The Endless Dream, it's called. I had to ransack a few particularly obscure spell books, but it was worth it in the end."

"Splendid. Now, what exactly do I do with it?"

"That's entirely up to you and your creativity. You just have to find a way to get it into Beetlejuice. Make him drink it, inject him, whatever works for you. Once it's in him, it'll knock him out in seconds."

"Knock him out?" Vasile repeated. "I want him _eradicated_."

"Look, this is the best I can do," Oscar grumbled. "The guy is the embodiment of death itself. That's more than a little challenging. But at least if he's asleep, you can get him out of the way until your seven-year itch is satisfied."

"Fine, I'll take it. I suppose it's better than nothing... barely."

"Your gratitude is overwhelming. One more thing, Your Lordship," Oscar cautioned, even as he turned to leave. "There's an antidote. No way around it. She ever finds him and kisses him, he'll wake up."

"...seriously? A kiss?"

"The kiss of a princess undoes a lot of magical messes. So does true love's kiss. Whichever one you want to call it in this situation, it'll put you right back at square one or worse." Oscar shrugged. "Don't look at me. I didn't write the rules."

* * *

So from there, Vasile had been forced to come up with a means by which to trick Beetlejuice into getting the poison (or whatever it might be called) into his system. The spinning wheel had struck him as a particularly ridiculous ruse - but it had been quite effective in a fairy story, from what he was given to understand. This would not normally have been a compelling reason to do much of anything; but when one is waging a war against a complete idiot, one must look at things in the way that a complete idiot might see them.

Nevertheless, it still came as a deep shock when the ploy actually worked.

He had still been asleep, as there was some daylight left at the time; but the castle took care of things, helpfully getting rid of the spinning wheel and replacing it with a pallet bed. The snoring body of the princess's erstwhile spouse was already sprawled on it when Vasile arrived to survey the situation.

"This Neitherworld is ridiculous," he muttered. "Logic would dictate that even this buffoon would have evaded my plan - but logic has no place here. It's not even worth conquering; let the prince keep it. I shall concern myself with the living. With this striped monstrosity out of my way, the path to Lydia is clear."

Nearly clear, at least. There was still the matter of the unborn.

He pondered the matter as he made his way to dinner. A simple accident could end things very quickly; he'd seen it often enough in his mortal days. He recalled a maid who, finding herself most inconveniently with child, had engineered a fall down the stairs. Another had made effective use of a certain herb. Regrettably, there was too much danger inherent in such plots; considering his intentions for her, Lydia was of no use to him dead.

No, much as it pained him, he would have to allow her to carry this abomination to term. He might even have to arrange for her to receive the visits of a physician, lest she be lost in childbirth. But if he played this game correctly, by the time the spawn made its appearance... its father would be of no further concern to her.


	13. A Ray of Hope There Still May Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone and afraid, Lydia is desperate for a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The responses to the last chapter delight me. Thank you all so much. <3
> 
> In messing with these two, Vasile has made what you might call... a grave error.

If pressed for honesty, Lydia would (eventually) admit that she didn't necessarily do very well by herself. She was perfectly capable, of course; rather, she didn't altogether enjoy the sensation. She was not, she would hasten to add, anywhere _near_ as bad as her husband in such a regard. After all, she didn't get twitchy as soon as he was farther away than across the house, nor was she prone to worry about him quite as much as he tended to worry about her.

That said, she understood why he worried. And when he vanished without a trace, she certainly found it more than a little disconcerting. He was _her_ idiot, after all. She much preferred it when he was nearby.

* * *

"It just doesn't make sense," she murmured, mostly for the benefit of anyone watching. "He wouldn't leave, I don't care what Vasile says."

By day, of course, her foul host-slash-captor slept, probably in a coffin and definitely someplace where she couldn't find him. Lydia spent a lot of her waking hours wandering the castle, attempting to learn it properly and maybe figure out a way to escape. The major problem was that, as she and Beetlejuice had already worked out, the castle was doing its level best to keep her where she was. Moreover, it was apparently on a secondary mission to keep her disoriented.

The day after Beetlejuice's disappearance, she'd struck out in search of him. He wouldn't leave her - of that she was convinced - and so he must still be in the castle, _somewhere_. Her plan, she thought, was a good one; she'd make her way around the corridors, working out a mental map and systematically eliminating possible rooms where she confirmed he wasn't.

At first, it seemed to be going well. He was definitely not in the parlor with the dark red paneling. Nor was he in the sitting room with the large fireplace capped by a stone owl with its wings spread as if in flight. She already knew he wasn't in the little suite of rooms that had been appointed for their sleeping purposes, and the dining room where Vasile insisted on joining them (well, her) for evening meals was a foregone conclusion. So far, so good.

But as she turned a corner, Lydia paused. She was almost positive she'd been through this hall already. A small side table hugged one wall, and above it hung a painting that she could almost have believed was one of Delia's. "I could swear I saw this an hour ago," she muttered. "Well, maybe I got turned around somehow."

Naturally, the castle had to have a library, and while she didn't have much hope of finding Beetlejuice there, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. (He _did_ read. Quite a bit more than most people would think, in fact.) But though she found the library, and even admired it, there was no Ghost With the Most among the stacks.

"I guess invoking a summons wouldn't even work," she mused. "We're in the Neitherworld, so all it would really do would be to send me home. Though I'm starting to wonder if that might not be the best idea." She paused and clutched her stomach, which was growling. "I can't keep up this charade forever," she mumbled. "I don't want to eat anything he puts in front of me - but I'm going to starve slowly if I don't eat _something_. And soon."

She left the library and started hunting again; perhaps she'd find a corridor whose table held a bowl of fruit, or maybe she could even figure out where the kitchen was and see if there was anything she could prepare for herself. Once again, however, she turned a corner and found herself facing a familiar scene - that same table, that same painting. "Now, this is ridiculous," she muttered. "I know this isn't the way I was heading. But this can't be the same hall, it was in the other direction! There must be two similar paintings."

Or three, apparently, since less than half an hour later she came across it yet again. "Okay, something's not right here," she said. "I've got to test this theory." She looked down at herself thoughtfully, then knelt and - very carefully - broke the lace of one of the little black boots she was wearing. "I'll put that here on the table," she told herself, setting it next to a candlestick. "If I come across this hallway and the lace is here, then I know something's really not right."

With great deliberation, she set off in what she thought was the direction of one of the two towers of the castle. She still hadn't managed to find either of them, and they seemed like a promising possibility for... well, something. Exactly what, she wasn't sure. Up a short flight of stairs to a landing, around the corner and -

"You've _got_ to be kidding me!"

There was no mistaking it, even as her logical mortal mind told her it was impossible. She hurried to the table, the candle lighting itself at her approach. "And there's my shoelace. I left it _downstairs_. There's no question - the castle is trying to confuse me! It won't let me leave and it won't let me find Beej!"

* * *

As she'd had occasion to note during previous adventures, Lydia didn't scare easily. But she was pretty well frightened now.

Reclaiming her lace, she had stumbled back down the stairs and, mercifully, found her own rooms without much difficulty. At least here, she felt reasonably secure; the castle didn't trouble itself about her when she was in that suite, nor was there any evidence of Mr. Monitor's cameras. She could think and plan without too much concern for being outed.

"I don't think the castle can understand me when I talk," she mused. "So at least there's that. It seems more preoccupied with my  _intent_ \- it let me find a few rooms. As long as I don't seem like I'm trying to do anything it doesn't want me to do, it might be content to ignore me." She pulled off her tiara in order to run her fingers through her hair, thinking. "And I know the camera guys are here, but the castle doesn't seem too worried about that either. It must be under some kind of order from Vasile to only concern itself with me. _He_ must not know that they're here, or he'd be taking steps to remove them."

She flopped backward onto the bed, her coronet still in her hands. "Oh, Beetlejuice, where _are_ you? We're better together, like I told Erebos. It was enough to break him, but it doesn't seem to be quite as effective here." She sighed, and winced as her stomach gurgled irritably. "Right. I need to eat something or I'm going to be sick."

Of course, the major problem was that there didn't seem to be anything _to_ eat, or at least nothing she could easily reach. She sat up again and glanced around the room thoughtfully. "Chair... desk... window... small table... wait, window?"

Curious now, Lydia rose and, putting the coronet back in place, crossed to the window. It opened easily enough, though she half expected it to slam shut immediately; to her surprise, it remained open. "I can see why," she murmured, glancing down. "No chance of my climbing down - I'm on the second story and there's no way I can make a long enough bedsheet ladder or anything like that. Still... if I can open a window... well, it's a start."

She gazed out across the valley. It was midday, and yet the scene was oddly bleak and dreary, as though the sunlight couldn't quite pierce the gloom of Vasile's presence. Not much grew here except trees, and idly she watched a bird of some kind soar overhead. It wasn't very big, and she half wondered if it was lost. But it was a friendly face, in its way, and she was grateful.

"I wish you would come down here," she called, as loudly as she dared. "I don't know if you could understand me, but the birds at home always seemed to know what I was trying to say, and it would be nice to talk to someone."

At first there was no response; the bird seemed to have flown out of sight. With a sigh, she left the window. "Well, it was worth a shot," she muttered, turning despondently.

"Prrp?"

Startled, Lydia spun around. The little bird - almost like the Neitherworld's version of a sparrow, she thought - had perched itself on her windowsill and was watching her intently.

"You did hear me!" She hesitated. "Didn't you?"

"Prrp!"

"You can understand me. Kind of, anyway." In spite of herself, she almost chuckled. "Avatar of Life, huh? Maybe it'll save me in the end. Little friend, I'm starving. I need something to eat, something safe for a mortal - I don't trust my host, so to speak."

"Prrrrp." It gave a little birdy shudder.

"Oh, you know about him, huh? Figures." Moving carefully to the window, not wanting to startle her new friend, she slowly extended a hand. "Can you help me? Please? Something to eat, anything?"

Rather than answer, the bird took off.

* * *

"Well, that went well," Lydia muttered, sprawling on the bed once more. She took off her coronet and set it aside, trying to ignore the pains in her stomach. She'd never gone so long without a proper meal in her life, and she was starting to wish she'd been given some of Beetlejuice's appetite for insects along with a portion of his power.

She dozed off, mercifully, and was awakened by the sound of some very insistent chirping. Opening one eye, she looked at the window, where her little friend had returned. He, or she, had managed to bring a little branch - barely a twig, really - from some kind of berry bush. A whole three berries clung to it.

"Oh, _thank_ you!"

It wasn't enough, it wasn't nearly enough, but she ate them gratefully. They were not quite ripe, she thought; still, they were sweet, and it was better than anything she'd tasted since they left Romania. She licked every droplet of juice from her fingers when they were gone.

"Thank you so much, friend." She sighed. "It won't last me long, but I appreciate the effort. I know you can't carry much, you're so little." She thought for a moment. "Do you know the way to Prince Vince's castle? Or maybe the Fairy Godfather's?"

"Prrp." It was a regretful note, clearly a negative.

"Maybe you have a friend who does. I need their help, badly, and I don't know if they even know how to find this place. Please, little friend, see what you can do. I'm a prisoner here, and my husband is missing." Lydia was surprised to find that there were tears in her eyes as she pleaded with the bird. "I don't know what this Vasile character wants with me, but I know it can't be good, and I can't stall him forever."

The bird, apparently moved by her obvious distress, left the windowsill and hopped up to her shoulder. She couldn't help chuckling as a tiny beak was rubbed against her cheek in a consoling gesture, and this was followed by a short, sweet song.

"Thank you," she said when it was done. "That... helps, somehow. But you'd better go, before anyone finds out about you. I don't trust the castle itself not to hurt you."

She watched as her new friend flew away, toward the now-setting sun. _We'll get through this_ , she told herself. _We haven't been beaten yet._


	14. Once Upon a Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure whether this made any sense, but a few of my beta readers loved the idea and pleaded with me to do it, so here it is. I'm rather happy about the way it turned out, really.

When Beetlejuice opened his eyes, he knew immediately that something wasn't right, although he wasn't sure exactly what it was. He grumbled to himself, sitting up, and that was all it took for him to be clued in to the nature of the trouble.

"Whoa."

Levitating a few feet into the air, he stared in some confusion at his own body, which was still snoozing away on the pallet bed. "Oh... oh, right, the so very-not-suspicious-at-all spinning wheel spindle," he recalled. "Stabbed me right in the hand, even when I didn't intentionally touch it." He paused. "Didn't something like that happen in one of those corny fairy books Donny liked when we were kids? It's awful familiar. Also just plain awful."

For a moment, he just floated there and watched himself slumbering. This became boring very quickly. "Okay, so... if I'm _there_... how am I also _here_?" he wondered, lifting a very transparent hand to try to study it. "I'm, like... a ghost of a ghost, or something. Wonder if this is what Vasile had in mind or if it's some kind of weird side effect he didn't count on." He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening. "Vasile. Damn it, I've left him alone with Lydia!"

He soared down the spiral staircase, muttering, trying to focus more on being angry and less on being afraid. "If anything happens to her before I figure out how to get back into my body, I swear I will tear this castle apart piece by piece with my bare hands."

* * *

He found Lydia almost immediately, and to his deep relief, she appeared unharmed. "Babes! Babes, you gotta help me!"

She ignored him, walked right past him in fact, and hurried up a short flight of stairs. Baffled, he followed, starting back in alarm when she gave a shriek of displeasure.

"You've _got_ to be kidding me!" she cried. As he watched, she approached the table in the hall and stared at its contents in dismay.

"And there's my shoelace. I left it _downstairs_. There's no question - the castle is trying to confuse me! It won't let me leave and it won't let me find Beej!"

"I'm right here, Lyds! Well, at least, some of me is - the rest of me's up in the tower." Beetlejuice tried to put a hand on her shoulder, and he supposed he shouldn't really have been surprised when it just passed right through her. She didn't even seem to notice.

"She can't see me, she can't hear me, she can't even feel me if I try to touch her..." He frowned thoughtfully, bobbing along invisibly behind her as she made her way back down the stairs and to their rooms. "Well, she's safe for the moment, at least. It's something. But I gotta figure out what's going on. Just what is Vasile up to? Nothing good, that's obvious, but I need a little more specific info than  _that_."

His current state didn't provide him with much in the way of magic, either, which was perhaps to be expected; he could still fly, but not much else. "There's gotta be something around here that can give me a hint," he mused. "I wonder how much the castle knows... Lyds is right, the castle's definitely in on it, but if it thinks - well, if it thinks at all, it probably thinks I'm in the tower. Which I am. But this bit of me is out here, and this stupid place probably doesn't know that. So maybe I can find Vasile without anybody realizing what I'm doing."

He started drifting experimentally, moving through walls and doors to see if anything would try to stop him. Nothing did. He even passed with ease through the front door, floating out into the fresh air for the first time since they arrived, and then nipped straight back inside. "That's useful," he mused. "If all else fails, I can hightail it out of here and try to bring back some help. I don't really know whether Vince would be able to see me - but if he couldn't, I'll bet the F. G. could. Somehow." He scowled at the idea. "Last resort, though. I won't leave her here alone with him unless I've got no choice."

* * *

By the time Beetlejuice happened upon Vasile, the sun was nearly down. "You know," he muttered to himself, "I probably should have checked the other tower sooner. Makes sense that he'd hide me as far away from himself as he could. Well, no matter, now we know where to find him when we're ready to... whatever it is we're gonna do to him. Have to think of something really good."

He sat through the dinner, such as it could be called, hovering in the air just behind Lydia's chair and making all manner of expressive faces at their host. She still wasn't eating nearly enough, and it was just lucky that her usual Neitherworld appearance had such a sickly cast; it kept the hunger from being too noticeable, to others at least. But to Beetlejuice, who knew Lydia better than he knew himself, it was all too obvious. She was starving herself rather than risking poison or worse at Vasile's hands, and while he understood why, he was worried about her. But in his current condition, he was in no position to help.

It was all too clear that time was of the essence, and becoming more so with every passing day. "I need to get you out of here, Babes," he murmured, as though she could hear him in spite of his predicament. "You keep this up and you're not gonna have the strength to fight him off... and _that_ is probably exactly what he's counting on."

Finally, after what felt like a few hours of polite small talk, Lydia excused herself from the table. Vasile bowed her out of the dining room, and she was soon shut up in their little suite with a book she'd found in the library. Hopefully it was some kind of a how-to guide for messy ways to destroy vampire ghosts, although Beetlejuice frankly doubted that Vasile would keep something like that on hand. Once she was out of sight, he followed the _strigoi_ back up to his tower, and watched him transform into his owl shape. "Hmm, and where are you off to?" he murmured. He didn't want to watch the thing attack anybody, least of all somebody's kid; on the other hand, he wanted to keep an eye on him.

Of course, tracking an owl through the darkness wasn't as easy as he might have thought. He could see well enough, but he wasn't able to move _quite_ that fast. "Wait a minute," he mused, watching the owl fly toward a familiar sight, "I know that place. We had to break in there to get Percy back that one Halloween! Fang-face is visiting the witches! But... why?"

By the time he reached the entrance, Vasile had regained his usual form and was in conversation with Oscar. "Oh ho, Mr. Warlock," Beetlejuice muttered to himself, "I remember you. Man, people in the Neitherworld can hold grudges like nobody's business - I thought we ended things pretty peacefully that night."

"So how did you get it into him?" Oscar was asking.

"In a manner so ridiculously stupid I feel almost ashamed for having lowered myself to it," Vasile returned. "The idiot handled a poisoned spinning wheel spindle and cut himself on the point."

"Ah, like in the fairy tale. It's hard to beat the classics. So he's asleep, then."

"And you can guarantee he will stay that way?"

"As long as she doesn't find him, you're good to go."

"Oh, no fear of that." Vasile actually rubbed his hands together like some kind of cartoon villain. Beetlejuice rolled his eyes. "She's growing weaker with every passing day - soon she's going to have no choice but to eat the food I provide if she wants to survive. Once she's eaten enough of it, she'll be under my spell, and then all I have to do is wait for her to give birth to her little abomination. She'll be mine."

"Wait, she's pregnant?" Oscar looked startled.

"Yes." Vasile made a noise of disgust. "I must allow her to carry it to term; there's too great a risk of her dying otherwise."

To his credit, Oscar seemed kind of sickened by what he'd helped the _strigoi_ accomplish. "No offense or anything, Your Lordship, but, uh... couldn't you just as easily find some other, uh, bride? I know she has to be human, but..."

"No! I thought you understood - Lydia is perfect!" Vasile insisted. "Beautiful, intelligent, royal, and possessing power of her own, from what you told me. With her infernal husband in his perpetual sleep, only their child stands in my way." He stood up a little straighter. "And by the time her body expels the parasite, she'll be ready to embrace her destiny - as the mother of my dhampyr sons!"

" _ **WHAAAAAAAT?!**_ "

Beetlejuice clapped his hands to his mouth, belatedly remembering that no one could see or hear him. Lowering them once more, he strained to hear the rest of their conversation; this was difficult, since all he could really seem to hear was the boiling of his own blood.

"And then what?" asked Oscar. "What are you gonna do with all those undead kids, anyway?"

"You told me that once I've endured seven years with a mortal woman at my side, I'll be free to go beyond the villages. With my children to aid me, I shall reclaim Romania for my family once again!"

"...yeah, okay, good luck with that," the warlock muttered. "Yeesh, did I bet on the wrong pony this time..."

* * *

Under ordinary circumstances, Beetlejuice would likely have had a good laugh at how pompous, how overly dramatic, and how utterly ludicrous this guy sounded. However, these were no ordinary circumstances.

"So _that's_ his game?" He was almost on the verge of exploding. "Half-vampire babies - with _Lydia_? Oh, no you don't, you bloodsucking bastard! _Nobody_ is having any kind of hellspawn with _my_ wife but _**me**_!"

He'd never been so angry in his entire afterlife, and really, that was saying something.

"I've gotta get to the Godfather," he muttered, taking his leave of the coven's mountain. "He's the only one who might be able to stop this mess. I'm not sure even Vince can do anything, but the F. G.'s gotta have enough power to step in here."

He paused, however, hovering in midair. "Should I go now, though? Count Jerkula's gonna be heading back to the castle before the sun rises, and she'll be alone there with him." He lifted a hand to scratch his non-corporeal head, absently wondering how that even worked. "On the other hand, I can't do anything while I'm there, and he's gonna be cooped up in his tower anyway. Maybe I can be back before the sun goes down again."

He cast an almost desperate look in the direction of Owl Castle. "Hang in there, Lyds! Your idiot's gonna get you outta this... somehow."


	15. Beloved By All Who Know Her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did something particularly dumb while working on this chapter. I grew concerned that I wasn't keeping the Fairy Godfather in character, so I decided to watch an episode of the cartoon with him in it so I could get a fresh feel for his perspective. I don't think I need to explain why that didn't work...
> 
> Speaking of the Godfather, I'm sort of blown away by how much you all seem to like him. I've gotten more private messages about his awesomeness than anyone else in the whole series. I wasn't expecting that. I'm really pleased though!

Exactly when Beetlejuice reached his castle, the Fairy Godfather didn't know. But he knew, of course, that he was coming.

"How did we deal with a crisis before the internet existed?" he wondered idly, closing Tumblr. "Things are certainly becoming difficult." He voiced his thoughts, in case the poltergeist was already on the premises. "We can't sit back idly, but I question what the better part of wisdom is for the planning. If we were to lead an outright attack on the castle, it could prove dangerous for Lydia. On the other hand, we can hardly in good conscience allow her to stay there and starve herself indefinitely as a means of holding off the _strigoi_ , either."

He rose from his chair and paced a little, slowly, in circles around the room. "With Beetlejuice trapped in his forced sleep, I don't think she can send herself home by chanting his name. Otherwise I suspect she'd have done so by now." He rubbed his chin, trying to think. "The most immediate concern, of course, is that the young lady needs food. Then she needs to find a way to counteract the castle's magic so she can get into the tower in order to release Beetlejuice from his spell. Getting her up there is the only real challenge - as long as she can find him, she can certainly revive him. She's the only one who can."

Still pondering the whole thing, the Fairy Godfather shook his head. "I must confer with Prince Vince," he decided. "I should have done so long since, but I had hopes that things would iron themselves out without my interference. As I have said to Delphine, one must try to avoid the appearance of favoritism. But I can remain neutral in this situation no longer; it's truly a matter of life and death, both literally and metaphorically."

He went to the door of his study and looked out into the hall. "Sonny - order the carriage, please. I'm afraid I must be going out." Glancing back into the room behind him, he added, "If you're here, Beetlejuice, try not to worry too much. We're going to figure this out somehow."

* * *

Upon arrival at the prince's castle, the Godfather was shown not into the throne room, as he anticipated, but upstairs into a handsomely fitted suite. It took only a few glances around the little apartment for him to realize that these must be Lydia's rooms when she was in residence in the Neitherworld; the framed portrait of herself and her husband which adorned one wall was proof enough of that.

Prince Vince was seated on the bench at the foot of her bed, conversing earnestly with her full-length mirror. No, wait, with the person _in_ the mirror - Beetlejuice's younger brother Donny, in his human guise. "Pardon the intrusion, Your Highness," said the Godfather genially.

"Not at all, Godfather. I'm glad you're here. I was just acquainting Donny with the latest developments; I'm assuming that's the reason for your visit as well?"

"Indeed. I can't be sure, but it's entirely possible that Beetlejuice's essence has accompanied me here. Unfortunately, in his current condition, he has no way of communicating with us." The Godfather shook his head. "However, the latest update stated that he was planning to visit me and attempt to get my attention. Any efforts he may have made in that direction have regrettably failed, but I've been speaking as though he can hear me - just in case."

"Were you able to visit the library, Donny?" the prince inquired.

"Yes, but not for long. There was another snowfall and the librarian closed things down earlier than I expected. Just as well, really, I didn't want to make Doomie drive around in bad weather." Donny's human face bore a rueful expression. "I didn't get to read nearly as much as I'd hoped, although what I did find was fascinating! In a dark and horrible sort of way, of course."

"Did you learn anything that might help us?"

"Not a whole lot, I'm afraid. There are apparently very few ways to deal with a _strigoi mort_." He brandished a piece of paper scrawled with notes. "A lot of the traditional methods unfortunately would need us to get hold of what's-his-name's mortal body."

"That's not going to work," Vince said with a frown. "He's been dead for ages; even if we knew where he had been buried, there's likely nothing left of him to find."

"I know. The most promising option," said Donny, grimly, "would be to burn down the castle where it stands. Start the fire in the room where he sleeps, then destroy the whole thing."

"That too will be a challenge," Prince Vince noted. "From what the updates report, the castle isn't letting Lydia find either Vasile or Beetlejuice - and we certainly would need to get the both of them out before we could set a fire."

"There is some good news, however," the Fairy Godfather interjected. "I think it's not unreasonable to surmise that Lydia once again has most if not all of Beetlejuice's power at her disposal."

Both of the younger ghosts looked at him in surprise. "What makes you say that?" inquired the prince.

"It's a theory, mostly," he admitted. "Based on how his magic behaved during the New Orleans incident, I've come to suspect that Beetlejuice subconsciously transferred his powers to Lydia just before her unexpected banishment. It was partly a means by which to keep the magic itself out of reach, but mostly I believe it was intended to protect her. Certainly it helped to keep her from being killed outright. If I don't miss my guess, he's probably done something similar this time too."

"I could see my brother doing that," Donny agreed. "Even if he doesn't know he's doing it."

"It would explain a few things," said Prince Vince, nodding.

"Added to her own awakening powers as the Avatar of Life, I would say that Lydia has more than sufficient ability to engineer her own escape," the Godfather continued. "The major difficulty I foresee is her health. She must eat."

"Agreed, but who knows what Vasile is trying to feed her?"

"Oh, no argument. She needs to continue to avoid his offerings - but the question is, how long can she manage to do so? We saw for ourselves that he's smart enough to know she can't hold out indefinitely. Sooner or later, she'll be forced to yield to her own hunger, and then he'll spring a trap of some sort." He shook his head. "This cannot be allowed to happen. Life would lose its avatar, and we would lose our princess. No, my good gentlemen, we must find a way to get food to her, and quickly."

"Well, she does have that one little bird helping her out," said Donny, dubiously. "I mean, it's not much, but it's a start. Can't we find more animals to deliver the food? Or parachute some out of a plane? I think you did that once, Vince."

"Yes... it's worth a try, certainly," the prince mused. "It feels a bit _deus ex machina_ to do it again, but under the circumstances, I don't think we can risk putting off intervention just for the sake of avoiding cliché. The risk to our friends is too serious."

"I'm sure your Tumblr followers will forgive the matter," said the Fairy Godfather, sagely. "It's a small thing compared to the safety of our dear Avatars, after all. Perhaps once they're out of danger, you can make amends for the abuse of the trope with a new poem."

* * *

Within the hour, Prince Vince had composed a brief note to Lydia, advising her that she needed to find a way to access the towers. "Let's hope that the castle doesn't try to block her efforts to keep the window open," he remarked, sealing the envelope and adding it to the parcel of food.

"Should I come back?" Donny offered. "I could deliver the stuff personally, like I did that other time."

"No, I think you're better off staying where you are. If Vasile were to somehow spot you, or that sentient castle cottoned on to your presence, it could go very badly." Vince half-smiled. "I'd just as soon not have to tell Beetlejuice that I managed to help his brother get into a terrible mess while he was indisposed."

"I doubt he'd mind all that much."

"I'm sure he'd mind more than you think. And I _know_ Lydia would mind, as would I. No, stay in the Outerworld and try not to worry too much. I'm sure things will resolve themselves satisfactorily before very much longer."

Donny sighed. "My poor brother and sister. They were trying so hard to do the right thing - and look what happened. Beetlejuice'll swear off being a hero forever after this."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said the Godfather, who had been listening quietly. He half suspected the other two had almost forgotten he was there; the way they both jumped slightly when he spoke suggested that he was right. "It's more in his nature than he may wish to acknowledge. Granted, it's taken a long time for that side of him to manifest... but as long as Lydia's around, he can't deny it."

"Which is just one more reason why we've got to help her," Prince Vince added. "Not that we needed another reason, but still. I've put together the best care package I can; I don't want to further tax her system by having her eat anything too heavy, but the options were somewhat limited."

"How are we sending this stuff, though? Do we even know where this castle is?" Donny wondered.

"We didn't at first, but since Mr. Monitor's got his crew inside, it wasn't too difficult to make him give me the directions," the prince assured him. "Naturally, the television workers will need to evacuate the premises before it's destroyed, but I'm sure Lydia and Beetlejuice will see to that."

"First things first," admonished the Godfather. "She's got to find him and wake him up, _then_ they can mastermind the grand escape for everyone involved."

"Of course. At least by this point, I imagine that she's heard the reminders about the magic kiss often enough that she'll know what to do - it's just getting her into the tower which is the sticking point."

"So kissing a princess - I mean, getting kissed by a princess - saves the day again?" asked Donny. "Or is it true love's kiss this time?"

"If you can figure out what the difference is between the two, I might be able to better answer the question."

"... _is_ there a difference?"

"For most people, yes. In this particular instance, not in the least."


	16. Undo This Fearful Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's nothing if not a fighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems that my author's note on the previous chapter confused some people, for which I apologize. As I said, I wanted to watch an episode of the cartoon featuring the Fairy Godfather, so I could be sure I was keeping him in character, but that's not possible. Apparently I do need to explain why - simply put, he's an original character. I invented him for this series. I was having a chuckle at my own expense, but I guess he fits in so well that other people are also forgetting that he's not actually part of the canon! That's a first for me, so thank you!
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to my friend and fellow Beetlejuice fan bd-z, in honor of her recent birthday. Happy birthday!

It was odd, Lydia thought, that such a little thing could make such a difference to her courage.

It was now three days, Neitherworld time, since Beetlejuice's unexplained disappearance. She was perfectly well convinced that Vasile had somehow masterminded the whole thing, even if she couldn't be sure _how_ he did it. She was also reasonably certain that whatever had been done was not permanent. After all, they were irrevocably bonded - by hand, by word, and by magically binding contract. Had Vasile managed to cause Beetlejuice to vanish for good, Lydia figured she would know it somehow. She might even have vanished right along with him.

In any case, she would be faring very poorly without her new bird friend. The sparrow (or whatever it was) had returned faithfully many times since bringing the first offering of berries. Sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by other ghost birds to whom it had apparently related her plight, it came again and again to bring small bits of sustenance. Lydia was growing ill and paler than ever, and without these gifts, she would have been far worse. But it wasn't just the food, desperately needed though it was.

"Hope's the thing with feathers that perches in the soul," she told her little friend on one visit. "That's what Emily Dickinson said. I think she nailed it, because you're the thing with feathers that's bringing hope to my soul. I don't know what I'd do without you."

The bird responded with a few intelligent-sounding peeps, and nudged another berry toward her hand.

* * *

When she heard the rustling outside her window in the late afternoon, she assumed it was her little friend again. But upon moving to the casement, Lydia found instead a small parachute tangled in the thorny vine which grew up the side of the castle, and a small box dangling precariously from it.

"Brother ex machina, if I don't miss my guess," she mused. "Thank goodness for Neitherworld television to keep him up to speed; I have no idea if Tumblr's on top of things or not." With some stretching and difficulty, she managed to retrieve the package, and she eagerly brought it to her bed in order to spill and survey its contents.

Fruit, mostly; that was to be expected. A small bottle of water was tucked into each of the box's four corners. "Carefully balanced - well, that makes sense," she noted, wolfing down chunks of banana. She was trying not to eat too fast, but her stomach was all but screaming at her. "And a letter, of course. Let's see what the dear prince has to say about all this."

* * *

_My dear Lydia,_

_We're terribly worried for you. It's very difficult to keep from bringing on a rainstorm every minute in my anxiety for your well-being. I just hope that the castle doesn't somehow prevent this package from reaching you intact._

_Vasile has imprisoned Beetlejuice in one of the castle towers, although I'm uncertain which one. The Fairy Godfather is inclined to believe that his magic will have once again transferred itself to you for safekeeping, so you may find a way to utilize it to locate him. I would suggest doing so early in the morning, as soon after daybreak as possible, so that you have plenty of time to formulate your escape._

_Donny has been researching the best way to defeat Vasile. I think we can all agree that his destruction is an unfortunate necessity; unfortunately, most of the methods would require access to his mortal body. The only way he can be brought down now would be to set fire to the castle while he's asleep inside it._

_I hesitate to bring forces to liberate you when you're in such perilous circumstances. So long as you are held so tightly in the enemy's grasp, I dare not risk his retaliation. But between yourselves, I suspect you and Beetlejuice can manage it once you're reunited._

_If it's any consolation, I've composed a sonnet for you. I hope you'll enjoy the enclosed._

_Yours,_

_Vince_

* * *

Lydia smiled, shaking her head over the end of the letter. "Locked in the tower, huh? Kind of overdramatic and overdone, but that's pretty par for the course in this place."

She returned to the window. "I think I see my little friend heading this way," she mused, peering into the distance. "Oh, no, the sun's almost down! Hurry, buddy!"

But it was too late. The bird was still some way off when twilight was officially upon the Neitherworld, and as it finally drew near to her window, it let out a terrified sound. Lydia gasped in horror as, with a great rush of feathers, a large owl swooped down and tried to grab her friend. "Get away!" she cried, reaching out as far as she could to swat at the predator. It swooped widely around and began flying toward her, and there was something menacing in its expression. Menacing - and familiar.

_Deadly-vu... that's not a real owl at all! It's Vasile!_

The little sparrow-or-whatever dropped its gift of food, but began charging with all its might toward Lydia's casement, either trying to protect her or looking to be protected by her. Or both. It couldn't move as fast or as lithely as the owl, however, and Lydia was frozen with indecision. Should she try to knock the owl aside? Slam the window before he could reach it? Who knew what he'd do to her - would he attack in owl form, or would he change back in order to do something far worse?

Before she could break free of her stupor, however, the decision was taken out of her hands by magic. Literally, that is - from out of seemingly nowhere, a bolt of bright purple energy struck the owl from behind and below, knocking it off course. Vasile gave an almost indignant hoot as he circled around, searching for the source of the power. Before he could decide to come back at her, Lydia reached out to catch the injured bird and hurriedly shut the window.

"Are you all right? Oh, no, you're bleeding!"

She stared in dismay at the small ruffled figure in her hands. It peeped at her, sadly and almost apologetically. "No, no, don't say that - you were very brave! He's just a big bully. Come on, let's get you cleaned up... maybe this Avatar of Life thing will help you heal faster."

She might have been imagining it, Lydia reasoned, but her little friend did seem to improve the longer she tended to it. Upon clearing the blood away from the wound, she found it looked much less severe than she originally feared. She gave the miniature hero a drink from one of the bottles Vince sent, and some seeds out of an apple, and it sure did give the appearance that it was reviving.

"You'll rest here tonight," she said. "I'm not stirring out of this room before daybreak anyway. Once the sun is up, I've got to find my husband - then we can figure a way out of this crazy castle." She paused, and glanced at the shuttered window. "I wonder who shot that magic bolt at Vasile. Whoever it was, I'm grateful."

* * *

Lydia hadn't really expected to sleep much, after the trauma of the evening, but actually having food in her stomach did wonders for her ability to rest. She was awakened by the chirping of her small friend, who seemed to be trying to direct her attention to the shaft of light creeping in through the window shutters. "Morning already? Thanks, little guy." She stretched, and scratched her fingers through her tousled hair. "Okay. First breakfast, then Beetlejuice."

Breakfast actually being an _option_ was a tremendous relief to her sensibilities. "I think now I'll be able to give the magic a try. Let's see... is there something I can say that'll get his powers to lead me? And will it be strong enough to outwit the castle when it tries to put me back where I started?" she wondered, giving her feathered companion a few more apple seeds.

She reread Vince's letter, in case it contained some sort of clue in the wording, but there wasn't anything there she could discern. "Well, let's try the sonnet," she decided. "It can't hurt."

* * *

_Soft as a lily and snowy white,_

_Life as sweet and brief as breath;_

_Black as raven's eternal night,_

_The sacred darkness master, Death_

_They dance the dance of endless time,_

_A waltz unending as the sea_

_As written out in ancient rhyme_

_And given birth by prophecy_

_Each bears within their secret heart_

_A portion of the other's grace,_

_And nothing dares force them apart;_

_These lovers transcend time and space_

_Forever entwined in one shape be_

_Like tears wept by eternity._

* * *

Lydia had to read it three or maybe four times, committing the lines almost to memory. "Well, his poetry certainly has improved," she remarked, "but what does... wait. Black and white - and tears? The yin and yang pendants!" She reached into her neckline and withdrew the yang pendant Lady Delphine had given her. "Of course. She said they were to remind us that even when we're apart, we're still together. We can't really be separated, no matter what happens."

Resting the pendant in the palm of her left hand, she pointed it at it with her right. "Find the yin," she told it. "Show me the way."

The white spot in the middle of the black field seemed to flash. The whole charm slowly lifted into the air, trying to move toward the door; it tugged at the end of the chain, like a dog running to the end of its leash. "C'mon, birdy buddy," Lydia said, "let's go find Beetlejuice." The sort-of sparrow hopped onto her hand and crawled up to her shoulder, peeping encouragingly.

Mustering all the courage she could find, Lydia opened the door and stepped into the corridor. "Not today, castle," she muttered. "You are not keeping us apart any longer." The pendant floated before her as she walked, now and then swinging to the left or right.

"It's working," she mumbled excitedly to herself. "I've never seen this hallway before!" There was an odd groaning, creaking sound; it was like the castle itself was protesting her movements. "Oh, get over yourself. I'm more powerful than you."

She almost turned back when she rounded a corner and came face to face with a portrait of Vasile, intimidating and fierce, glaring at her with those horrendous red eyes. "Don't even try it," she hissed.

* * *

As she reached the door at one end of a long corridor, the pendant seemed to grow almost excited, straining against the confines of the chain as though frantic to get to its other half. Lydia chuckled quietly. "Yeah, I know how you feel."

The door was locked; she probably should have expected that, really. "Let's see. How to get past this using Beej's powers," she mused. "I need to say something to unlock it, or transform it, or something - but what should I say? 'Give me a skeleton key'?"

A ridiculous idea came to her, and in spite of how frayed and taut her nerves were, she couldn't help chuckling for the first time in days. "Worth a try, I guess. Hey, Feathers, I've got a joke for you. When is a door not a door?"

The bird on her shoulder gave a quizzical chirp. "When it's _ajar_ ," Lydia declared, pointing. To her immense delight, magic jolted from her fingertips and struck the door, transfiguring it into a jar. Somewhere deep within the castle, something made a noise of tremendous frustration, and the jar on the floor rocked violently on the spot like it was trying to turn back into a door.

"I think I'll just bring you with me," she said, picking it up, "so you don't get any ideas. I'd smash you, but knowing the Neitherworld scriptwriters, I may end up needing you on my quest." Glancing at her avian companion, she added, "Hacks, the bunch of them."


	17. True Love Conquers All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody wondering where that bolt of purple lightning-ish magic came from? You'll find out soon. Many thanks to Ada (she of Cobweb & Stripes fame) for her help with this chapter - I knew something about the original draft didn't quite sit right with me, but she helped me understand why.

Beetlejuice had, naturally, been listening very intently to everything said in the meeting between his brother, Vince, and the Fairy Godfather. He desperately wanted to get their attention, and tried his hardest - but he was less than shade at this point. He couldn't so much as ruffle the curtains or make Vince's hair stand on end. He was the Ghost of the Ghost With the Most, so to speak. It was almost as though there was no essence to him at all, and his personality had simply gone for a walk while leaving his body behind.

Compared to everything else that was going on, that idea wasn't as weird as he would have thought.

They were going to send help to Lyds. Good. He wanted to make his approval known, but again, his condition stifled him. Donny had been doing research, huh? Eh, little brothers had their uses, he supposed. He was totally in favor of burning down the castle, though of course not while she was in it.

He hovered behind Vince, reading over his shoulder as he penned the sonnet. "You don't know how to just say something straightforward, do you?" he muttered. "Oh well. Lyds'll probably appreciate the diversion - almost as much as she appreciates the food. Looks like you've got everything here under control, so I should probably get back and check on her."

* * *

He arrived at the castle in time to witness the attack on the little bird by the Vasile owl.

Ordinarily, he might not have cared very much. But he saw Lydia at the window, saw the bird struggling with all its might to get to her and, knowing her affinity for animals, very quickly put two and two together. She'd found herself a tiny ally, in the time since he disappeared, and Vasile was trying to take it away. That was all he really needed to know.

"You miserable fang-faced son of a _bitch_!" Beetlejuice didn't swear often - Lydia didn't like it much and besides, the show was rated G - but occasionally it was warranted. However, when the purple lightning-ish bolt of magic came screaming out of nowhere to knock Vasile off course, he was startled out of his ire by confusion.

"Where'd _that_ come from? Huh." He glanced at Lydia's window, which was now shut tight against Vasile, and heaved a sigh of relief. "Okay. She's safe for the moment." Slipping past the shutters, he watched her tend to the bird's minor injuries, and in spite of circumstances he couldn't help feeling amused. "Look at you, all Avatar of Life. Next thing I know you'll be planting trees and making them grow or something. Hell, you already turned me into a complete sap years ago, that might be considered the same thing."

With food in her stomach and the recovering bird settled on the pillow where his own head belonged, Beetlejuice wasn't too surprised to see Lydia conk out quickly. "Babes probably hasn't slept right since I went missing... stupid plot."

He knew that remaining in the room with her was probably pointless; after all, it wasn't like he could protect her even if Vasile decided to force entry. Didn't matter, not really. At least he could see with his own eyes (or a reasonable facsimile thereof) that she was all right. "And besides," he mused, "it's not like I've got anything better to do."

* * *

_Ripple dissolve to Neitherworld Network Studios..._

* * *

"Is she out of the room yet?" Monitor asked, shaking his coffee cup at the nearest intern for a refill.

"Yes, sir! She seems to have put a spell on the pendant that was given to her by Lady Delphine in the last major story arc, and it's allowing her to bypass the castle's magic," reported an assistant. "She and the bird are making their way through corridors she couldn't previously access."

Monitor grumbled. "Once we knew Beetlejuice was missing, we should have ignored the prince's orders and set up cameras in her room. We missed crucial details!"

"Sir, the prince is watching the show. He would have known and you would have been subjected to worse than he gave you the last time."

"Don't remind me." He shuddered a little. "The man really _can_ be creative when he wants to be. Keep a close watch!" He squinted at the screen. "What's she doing?"

"She's found the door to the tower where Beetlejuice is being held, by the look of things," said another subordinate. "She's trying to figure out how to get past it. It looks as though Beetlejuice's magic may have taken up residence inside her again."

"How _does_ he do that?" Monitor wondered. " _Why_ does he do that? Oh, never mind, she's doing something now - let me see it. And get some music going in the background, we need a theme song for these two."

"How about 'Another One Bites the Dust'?" someone suggested.

"You're fired. What's that song they played at their Outerworld wedding? Vince put it on Tumblr. Find it fast enough and you'll be rehired."

As they watched, Lydia transformed the offending door into a jar through the use of a particularly lame joke. "Yes, she's got Beetlejuice's reality warping abilities, all right. Also his terrible sense of humor." He peered intently at the images as Lydia collected the jar and, with her little bird friend still clinging to her shoulder, made her way gingerly up the winding staircase that led to where Beetlejuice was oblivious to the world.

"I'll never understand this girl," Monitor remarked offhandedly, studying Lydia's face. Her pale features took on a softness as she looked at her snoozing spouse, a sense of relief mingled with genuine affection. "No matter. The ratings are skyrocketing, everybody loves this pairing!"

With the wedding music swelling in the background, the enchanted black teardrop pendant half dragged her across the room, apparently struggling to get to the matching white pendant Beetlejuice wore beneath his shirt. Lydia leaned over the unconscious figure; when she did, the yang symbol dropped onto his chest, seemingly aligning itself through the fabric with the yin. "Take back what is yours," she told him, "and give back what is mine." So saying, she lowered her face to his, just as the song crescendoed.

 _I am not my own_ , declared the vocalist, loudly, _for I have been made new. Please don't let me go; I desperately need you._

"Money shot!" Monitor declared. "You can practically hear the people squealing!"

After a lingering moment, Lydia drew back, watching anxiously for signs of movement. Slowly Beetlejuice blinked his eyes open; the amber glow they emanated seemed vaguely confused for an instant. He looked up and managed to focus on her troubled expression, and a wide grin split his features while the last notes of the song died away.

"It's showtime!"

* * *

_A return ripple dissolve to the more interesting part of the story..._

* * *

"Beej!"

In spite of everything, Beetlejuice couldn't help laughing as Lydia sort of draped herself on him for a minute. "Knew you'd find me eventually, Babes," he said, his arms going around her. "This castle couldn't keep you down for long."

Lydia drew back, smiling, and as he sat up she put a hand to his face. "I have to admit, I missed you."

"Of course you did." He leaned into her hand almost unthinkingly, eyes searching her face; as far as he could tell she wasn't too much the worse for wear. If his expression while he did so was maybe a little adoring, well, he didn't know anything about it. "I _am_ your idiot, after all."

"Exactly." She laughed and pushed him gently away. "Come on, we've got a lot of work to do."

"I'm right behind you, Princess."

As she clattered down the spiral staircase, Beetlejuice hovered along beside her to make sure she didn't fall. The little bird was clinging to her shoulder still. "Yo, Feathers, you can fly, y'know."

"How did you know the name?" Lydia glanced at him in surprise.

"Weirdest nap I ever took, Babes. My dead body may have been snoozing away where you found it, but the rest of me was out and about, checking in on different things." He grinned. "Saw you pull that trick with the door. That joke was _awful_ , I'm so proud."

"I learned from the worst. You know, part of me wants to be incredulous about you having seen it, but that's not even the weirdest thing to happen in the last twenty-four hours," she said after a thoughtful pause. "And if I think about it, I'm really not even surprised. It's supposed to be impossible to separate us completely."

"There is that. So anyway, Donny thinks the only way we can be free of the prince of darkness or whatever he's calling himself is to burn this place down with him in it."

"Oh, _that's_ not hard at all," she deadpanned. "Though it does make sense, I guess. I think the first thing we'd better do, though, is tell Monitor's people to clear out."

"Yeah, Vince figured you'd take care of that."

Beetlejuice expected it to be no easy task, since they had no idea how many television employees were in the building in the first place. But all they really had to do was warn the first one they found, and the news spread like wildfire through the ancient halls - like the fire that actually would spread in the near future, in fact. Two insisted on remaining, to keep the audience in the loop regarding the situation, but they agreed to have the others clear out at once.

"There's a hitch in the plans, though, Lyds," he mused. "Donny said the fire has to _start_ with Vasile. Meaning one of us has to be in the room to set it. I'm voting for me."

"Why?"

"Why does the fire have to start there or why am I voting for me?"

"Both."

"Well, I reckon the fire has to start with him because otherwise there's too much chance he could be warned somehow and escape."

Groaning, she pressed a pale hand to her eyes. "I probably should have figured that out on my own. I think all this time without food may have addled my brain."

Feathers offered a sympathetic peep, and Beetlejuice chuckled. "As for why me, there's that whole business of you still being alive. I get burned, well, it won't be the first time. You've seen me get fried more than once, y'know."

"All right, that's true. I don't want to leave you, though," she protested.

"I get that. But I'll feel about a million times better if you do. Not something I ever expected to say," he admitted.

"I know, Beej, but I -" Lydia's comment was cut short by the sound of the doorbell. "Who in the world would that be?" she wondered. "In the middle of the afternoon, no less?"

"Let's hope it's good news."

Nodding, Lydia followed him down into the main foyer of the castle, though he waved her back before he actually opened the door. Probably it was Vince or the Fairy Godfather, he reasoned, but there was no sense taking chances. Grasping the door's handle, he pulled it open slowly and peered out at the figure standing there.

"What the - _you_?"

* * *

Lydia, evidently surprised by his tone, peered around him and gasped in surprise. "Mr. Warlock? What are you doing here?"

"Don't listen to him. He's in league with the _strigoi_ ," Beetlejuice said through gritted teeth. "He's the one who helped Vasile knock me out!"

"I did," said Oscar. He was sort of wringing his hands, looking chagrined. "I was wrong. I'm here to make things right."

"Make things right? You've got to be joking," the poltergeist growled. "Give me one reason why we should trust you!"

"I stopped him from hurting the little bird worse than he would have."

Okay, Beetlejuice had to admit he didn't expect that. He traded a glance with the wife, and lowered his arm so she could see the warlock more clearly. "That was _you_?" she asked. "That purple bolt of magic?"

"Yes. I've been out in the forest beyond the castle for the last day or so, trying to figure out how I can maybe help," the warlock explained. "When I saw his owl form attacking your little friend, I had to do something." Even Beetlejuice, annoyed as he was, had to admit that the guy sounded pretty sincere. From his perch on Lydia's shoulder, Feathers twittered a few mournful notes.

"We need to burn down the castle," Lydia said grimly. "It's the only way we can stop him for good. He's been killing children in the mortal world - it's why we came here in the first place."

Oscar blanched. "I had no idea, I swear it." He put a hand to his chin, looking contemplative. "So you will need fire... obviously... and you'll need to set the fire in his room. But you'll also need to be able to get out of the castle before it's too late." He dropped his gaze to Lydia's hands, which still carried the jar that had once been a door. "My lady, I think I have an idea."


	18. All the Powers of Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearing the finish line. And yes, the Godfather is quoting The Godfather again.

Mr. Monitor was less than enthused when he learned about the forced evacuation of his employees. Oh, sure, he supposed the reasoning was sound enough, but it was still going to hinder his ability to maintain stellar ratings for the current arc.

"I'd better go down and supervise personally," he said. "You idiots stay here and keep broadcasting."

"Should I send for the car, sir?" wondered one assistant.

"Don't bother. I'll just travel by ripple dissolve, it's faster."

* * *

One scene transition later, Monitor found himself greeting the arriving rescue party of Prince Vince and the Fairy Godfather. "Ahahaha... I hadn't expected you to come yourself, Your Highness."

"The most recent Tumblr update was quite heartening," said the prince, his tone relatively benign. "But I wanted to be on hand to be absolutely certain that the extraction goes well, for my own reassurance and for that of Beetlejuice's brother, who has been very anxious about things."

"And I don't think I need to explain my presence," the Godfather added calmly.

"You never explain anything," Mr. Monitor muttered under his breath. More audibly, he continued, "Once I heard about the fire, I wanted to personally oversee the broadcast at the source. You know. Make sure all the details are just right."

"And to see to the safety of your people, I'm sure?"

"Uh... yeah. What you said." The employees in question, minus the two who had elected to remain with the heroes, were milling about the area talking amongst themselves. "Don't just stand there growing mold! Ahahaha! Set up the equipment so we can see what's going on in there!"

It took a little time to adjust the wiring and get a clear picture. "It looks like they're making their way to Vasile's sleeping chamber," said the prince, squinting thoughtfully at the screen. "Who's that with them?"

"That would be Oscar - the warlock," rumbled the Godfather. "He's changed his tune... I should advise him never to take sides against your family again, Your Highness."

"Somehow I don't think it's a warning he's going to need."

Inside the castle, Oscar was doing something with the jar that had once been a door. "Volume!" Mr. Monitor barked. "I can barely hear!"

"Now, Princess," the warlock was saying, "it's really very simple. I've filled this with a dormant flame spell. All you'll need to do is throw it as hard as you can at the vampire's coffin. The glass will shatter, exposing the flame to the air, and things will go up in flame very quickly so you'll need to get out of there as fast as possible. I'd recommend throwing it from the doorway."

"That seems easy enough, I guess," she said doubtfully. "But what if something goes wrong?"

"That's why I'm going with you," Beetlejuice reminded her. "To make sure that nothing does. Here's my question, though, Mr. Warlock - how come Lyds has to be the one to do this? Can't _you_ do it? You sort of owe us, y'know."

" _She's_ the object of his obsession," Oscar pointed out. "Rule of Drama sort of demands that she be the one to do it."

"Yeah, uh, about that," said Lydia. "Why _is_ he fixated on me anyway?"

"Oh - you don't know?" He gave her a sympathetic look. "He wanted you to be the mother of his children."

"He _what_?" Lydia's face became a mask of horror, and she glanced at her husband for corroboration.

Beetlejuice nodded, scowling. "I found out while I was wandering around invisibly during my weird nap. Wasn't sure if I should tell you."

"I can see why," she said, a little weakly. "He actually expected me to... seriously?"

"Oh yes. It's part of being a _strigoi mort_ ," Oscar explained. "If he could persuade a mortal woman to remain with him for seven years, and bear his dhampyr sons, he'd be released from his restrictions - able to go anywhere in the Outerworld and feed on anyone. You were the key to his freedom."

"Well. Glad to know it wasn't personal," she said dryly.

"He's been more than a little threatened by your marriage, obviously. And your pregnancy."

"My - oh. That was a lie so he'd stop offering me wine," Lydia confessed. "I'm not expecting."

"You were wise to keep that from him, then. To judge by some things he said to me, it's probably the only reason he hasn't pressed his 'suit' more urgently." Oscar made a face. "Here's the entrance to his tower, and here I'll leave you. Remember - throw it hard, and _run_."

* * *

"Honestly," Prince Vince remarked, accepting the popcorn that the Fairy Godfather handed him, "I thought she'd be angrier about that particular development."

"It seems as though she's more startled than angry," the Godfather mused. "Or it may be that, in light of what she's about to do, adrenaline is keeping her focus on the task and she'll process the anger later. Or perhaps she's simply too even-tempered to be very angry about it at all."

"Or all three. All things considered, Lydia _has_ encountered far more than her fair share of weirdness over the years. At this point, she's probably developed something of an immunity." The prince ate a handful of popcorn, looking thoughtful. "To some extent, I worry that this might not be healthy. I should hate to think she's been stripped of her sense of wonder."

"Somehow, Your Highness, I think she's just fine," came the sage reply. "I'm very interested to see how this plays out, meanwhile. Vasile has vastly misjudged both of our Avatars, but Lydia in particular." He looked oddly pleased. "Which is as it should be. A friend should always underestimate your virtues and an enemy should always overestimate your faults. In this case, he has clearly overestimated her weakness as a mortal, and it will almost certainly prove his undoing."

Mr. Monitor shrugged, doing his best to keep all four of his expressions pleasant. "All I know is, the ratings have been record-setting. I might even give the writing team a raise if this keeps up. Oh, who am I kidding? Ahahaha!"

* * *

The air itself seemed to crackle with tension as Lydia slowly opened the door to the chamber where the _strigoi mort_ slept. "Mm. Nice choice of music," she murmured dryly, noting that the soundtrack had gotten a bit louder and more intense. "Listen, you camera guys had better split."

"We can't leave the equipment," said a muffled voice.

"Mr. Monitor can take it up with us later about a replacement. I'm not throwing this stuff until I know you're out of here."

"Scram," Beetlejuice added. "And those of you watching at home, remember - don't try this yourselves, because I have no idea what we're doing." He glanced at Lydia. "You sure you don't want me to do it? I can get you outside first."

She shook her head. "I can do it."

"I have my doubts. Babes, listen." His expression turned serious. "Assuming the F. G. knows what's what - and let's face it, he usually does - you're the Avatar of _Life_. You've never killed anything, even if it was already dead, and I really don't think you should start now."

She paused, looking thoughtful. "You really want to do it?"

"Well, I'm the Avatar of Death, ain't I? Maybe this falls under my jurisdiction. Look at it this way - if you do it, it might not even work!"

"You make a pretty good point," she admitted. "All right. But I'm staying with you while you do it." With only some reluctance, she surrendered the jar of magic fire.

"Stay by the door," he directed, "and be ready to run."

* * *

"This is getting intense," said the prince, his popcorn somewhat forgotten. The Godfather had pulled up a few armchairs from out of nowhere and they were clustered around the screen, Prince Vince on the edge of his seat. Even Oscar the Warlock had found their group and joined them, watching intently.

Mr. Monitor glared at his two remaining crew members as they approached. "You were supposed to stay there!"

"What, and disobey a royal request?" one of them snarked. "Didn't seem like a good idea, especially with all that fire talk happening."

"Certainly not. Come and have some popcorn," said the Fairy Godfather. Mr. Monitor frowned, wanting to object but not quite daring, and let the matter slide.

"Turn up the volume," he said instead, "and get that escape music queued for the big moment."

* * *

"Do you think we need to open the coffin first?" Lydia asked dubiously, studying the infernal box where her would-be captor slumbered.

"Probably best not to - the wood'll help the jar smash." Beetlejuice glanced back at her. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. I mean, I know we have to do this, it's the only way. It's just... disturbing."

"And that's why I said I'd do it. _You_ would hesitate, but I've got _zero_ problem toasting the bastard who was after you. Maybe you'd better send Feathers out, first," he added, gesturing to her little companion. The bird was still clinging precariously to the shoulder of her dress. "Here, lemme open the window. Don't want your tiny protector getting lost in the commotion."

"Good thinking." Lydia crossed the small chamber to where Beetlejuice forced open the only window, and gently removed her avian cling-on. "I want you to fly out there and find someplace safe to land," she said, softly but firmly. "Those two people who were here a minute ago? The ones we sent away? See if you can find them."

The bird uttered a series of chirps which might be taken as a protest. They seemed to mean as much to Lydia, in any case; she shook her head. "I promise, we'll be fine. I'll find you when we come out. Okay?"

Feathers still didn't look convinced, but rubbed its beak against her cheek. Then, with a reluctance that was evident even to someone who didn't speak bird language, it flapped its wings - now free of the bandage Lydia had applied the previous evening, and fully healed - and departed through the open window.

Lydia watched for a moment. "Okay, Beej," she said, turning back to her husband, "let's do this."

"That's my girl. Here we go... it's showtime!"

With all the dramatic flair one might expect from the self-proclaimed Ghost With the Most, Beetlejuice slammed the jar down hard on the heavy wooden lid of Vasile's coffin. It shattered rather spectacularly, and brightly colored flames began to dance across the surface.

"Go! Go!" He rushed across the room, pushing her out the chamber door. From within the coffin, a scream of horror and pain and fury started to grow louder. The castle, apparently responding to its master's unspoken demands, started slamming doors and trying to create obstacles to prevent their escape.

For Vasile, it was too late. The entire chamber was engulfed in a firestorm, and though he forced his way free of the blazing coffin, the magic fire had already started licking at his clothes and hair. He stumbled, trying to reach the window and perhaps fly to freedom, but his every inch was shortly overwhelmed with heat and searing pain. Just before the camera succumbed to its own destruction, it recorded the last few seconds of his diabolical afterlife.

* * *

"Look at _that_!" Mr. Monitor crowed, jabbing one chubby finger at the screen. With a final desperate howl, Vasile's charred body burst into a thousand cinders, spilling across the stone floor of his sleeping chamber. Less than a moment later, the camera itself apparently melted, and the picture likewise turned to ash. "Blast it! Now how are we supposed to record the thrilling escape? All of you, get the other cameras going! Surround the castle! I want the fire recorded from every possible angle!"

"They... they _will_ get out, won't they?" Prince Vince asked the Fairy Godfather, sounding worried.

"I should think so... but that fire does seem to be spreading quickly." The Godfather frowned, squinting at the building. "You there! Warlock! How long will it take the castle to burn?"

"It should be dust within minutes, sir." Oscar groveled a little. "Not long at all."

"But will that be long enough?" the prince wondered. He glanced up and saw a small brown figure circling overhead. "Look! Feathers found us! Let's hope that bodes well for his mistress."


	19. Here's Your Precious Princess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was pretty sure I might get this done at twenty chapters; I think I still can. Also, Salina Turda is a real place and you should totally look up the pictures online; it looks amazing.

Halfway down the spiral staircase which was the exit from Vasile's room, the ancient stone literally crumbled beneath Lydia's feet. The castle was either dying a very violent death of its own, or else it was trying to ensure that its master's killers shared his fate.

As she started to fall, Beetlejuice grabbed her upper arms and transformed himself into a striped parachute, gently guiding her to the bottom. Turning back into his regular form with a faint pop, he looked up to see the warlock's magic fire devouring everything above their heads. It seemed to be tearing through wood and stone a lot faster than regular fire probably could, and it was clear that time was running out. "Run, Babes!"

"Run _where_?" she asked, even as they rushed out into the hallway. "The castle's trying to make sure we don't escape, I think that's pretty obvious."

"Yeah, I may not have completely thought this through," he admitted. "Think we can get to the front door without it catching us?"

Before the wife could articulate a proper response, she gave a shriek as the remnants of the tower came crashing down not far from where they stood. "We need to get out of here, fast!"

"Any ideas?" He immediately shifted to put himself between her and the advancing wall of fire - though considering that it suddenly seemed to be approaching from all sides, that was harder than he'd expected. How in the world did it move _that_ fast? Or was it just his imagination? He glanced around in search of an exit, but nothing seemed like the right answer.

Lydia was coughing; smoke was starting to fill the corridors. She dropped to her knees and began crawling as fast as she could, even as the rapidly expanding fire began to choke the air out of their surroundings. But just as she turned a corner, she abruptly stopped, and Beetlejuice almost crashed into her from behind. "Wait a minute, Beej."

"I don't think we _have_ a minute, Lyds."

"I just realized - we're overthinking things."

"We are? I don't think I've ever been accused of _that_ before."

"I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner, to be honest. All the excitement must have gotten to me." She reached back to grab his hand. "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!"

* * *

Outside the castle, the observers were forced to relocate as parts of the building began to fall to the ground in a smoking, smoldering pile of ash and broken stone. The castle itself gave off a strange, piercing cry as it collapsed in on itself, as though screaming at the indignity of its own destruction. Or something like that.

"Good heavens!" Prince Vince was staring at the growing wreckage with a sort of impressed look of horror.

"Your spell was certainly effective, Master Warlock," noted the Godfather. "I would venture to say that you've nearly made amends for your role in Vasile's plot up to this point."

"But where _are_ they?" The prince was all but wringing his hands. "They should be here!"

"You called?"

Beetlejuice was having trouble keeping his amusement to himself as he sauntered out of the trees, hands in his pockets, two paces behind Lydia. She was the picture of royal elegance - the tiara was perched evenly on her head, and she lifted the skirt of her gown as she walked. She almost floated. _You'd think she was taking princess lessons her whole life_ , he thought, though he knew her well enough to recognize that she was fairly entertained beneath that serene appearance.

"Are we fashionably late?" she inquired sweetly, as though to prove him right on that score.

"Lydia! Beetlejuice!" Vince ran to take her hands in his. "Are you all right? When the castle came down, we feared the worst..."

"None the worse for wear, I promise. I used the incantation to send us back to the Outerworld before the collapse," she explained, "and then we came back again just to let you all know we're okay."

"Didn't have much of a choice," Beetlejuice added, somewhat languidly. "Even with the bastard dead, that castle was obeying his orders to keep Lyds inside. We were cut off in all directions."

"I'm so relieved!"

"We were able to watch his destruction onscreen," the Godfather reported, coming over and shaking Beetlejuice's hand. The gesture surprised him a bit, but he decided not to show it. "You handled the matter very well. I expect the people in the villages he was tormenting will be grateful to you, even if they aren't certain exactly what happened or who is responsible."

Feathers, meanwhile, had once again claimed a spot on Lydia's shoulder and was rubbing its beak against her cheek. "I'm happy to see you too," she said. "Vince, do you think Feathers could stay at the castle? We've gotten kind of attached to each other, I think, but there's no way I can risk taking a Neitherworld animal back home with me."

"I daresay I can find room in my castle for a little resident. Besides, any friend of yours is always welcome - and Feathers _is_ a hero, after all, aiding the Princess of Beetles in her hour of need." He smiled.

* * *

After sending Monitor and his goons back to the studio where they belonged, Vince led the way back to his castle, where they all convened in the throne room to discuss everything that happened. The prince gave an order to one of his lackeys, who somehow managed to dig up a tiny silk ribbon and an even tinier gold charm. Lydia gently tied it around Feathers' neck as a badge of honor "for services to the crown." Beetlejuice rolled his eyes, but the wife was clearly happy about being able to make the gesture, so he held his tongue.

She glanced at him, frowning when she saw the tongue gripped lightly between his thumb and forefinger. "Put that back in your mouth."

Oscar, in light of his flipped loyalties, was allowed to return to his coven in the mountains without further official reprimand. "But this is your only 'get out of jail free' card, as it were," Vince warned him. "Make an unscrupulous alliance like that again, and there will be no further second chances."

"Yes, sire. Thank you."

"Did you make a Monopoly reference on purpose, Your Highness?" the Godfather inquired, once the sniveling sorcerer had made good his escape.

"Honestly, I didn't think much about it. Why?"

"Merely curious. It reminds me - I promised Lady Delphine a rematch once the Avatars were out of peril. I suppose I should make good on that promise. She's so determined to win." He started for the door. "I'll be sure to give her all your regards; that will please her."

"That's something I've always wanted to ask you, Godfather," said Lydia. "How did you and Lady Delphine meet in the first place, and why did you play Monopoly with her?"

"Well, Princess, those are good questions," he replied, not slowing his gait. "I might even answer them one day. Goodbye, children, do try to stay out of trouble for a bit."

"Whaaaat?" Beetlejuice gaped after him. "After everything we went through and all the stuff he's already told us, he's not gonna answer your simple question? Are you kidding?"

"Maybe my question wasn't as simple as we think," Lydia mused. "There must be a good reason why he and Delphine both keep this a secret, you know? Maybe it's something deep and complex, like the prophecy."

"Or maybe it's just a really stupid story and he doesn't want to embarrass himself," Beetlejuice countered.

"Or maybe it's something painful and they don't like to talk about it," Vince offered. "As you say, Lydia, there must be a reason."

"I wonder if we'll ever find out what it is," she remarked. "Well, probably not at any point when we have an audience, anyway."

"And let's face it," Beetlejuice added, "we usually do."

* * *

It was hard - harder than he suspected Lydia thought it would be - to explain to the people in the Outerworld that they didn't have to be afraid of Owl Castle or the _strigoi mort_ anymore. At least the old woman who had given them the directions seemed to understand (though how accurately their words were translated for her was anyone's guess).

"She says," someone interpreted, "that she suspected you two wouldn't just let the whole thing go. We always have to be wary of the  _strigoi_ \- he wasn't the first and he won't be the last - but we can sleep a bit easier now because of you."

"They're overwhelming me with their gratitude," BJ muttered to Lydia over a bowl of soup, once the conversation had ended.

"Well, _we_ know what really happened. And _I_ know what a hero you were," she added in her most placating voice. "Let's just be satisfied with that."

"Speaking of us knowing what happened, what are you gonna tell the magazine? That's gonna be one creative lie you'll have to dream up, and you don't lie well."

"I know." She grimaced. "It pains me to do it, but I think I'm going to have to take your suggestion from a few days ago - tell them the castle burned down and there's nothing left. I did take pictures of the ruins in the woods, so I can offer that as proof. Maybe I'll write up something about the rumors of the _strigoi mort_ as a consolation prize of sorts."

"Better than nothing. So are we ready to go home?"

"Well, as long as we're here..." She opened her Romanian tour book. "I think we should just take one more day to run down to Transylvania. There's this underground amusement park..."

"Amusement park? _Underground_?"

"Salina Turda. It's built in an old salt mine. When are we ever going to have the chance to see something like that again?"

"Well, it's no Insectarium, but I think I could be persuaded." He waggled his eyebrows playfully.

* * *

Chuck was there to meet them when they got off the plane a few days later. "How was Pennsylvania, pumpkin?"

"It was pretty nice," Lydia replied, stifling a laugh. BJ had a harder time keeping his own under wraps. "Cold, of course, but spring's on its way. Did we miss any excitement here?"

"Just a lot of snow. I went out to your house one afternoon and had lunch with your brother, BJ - I was afraid he might go a little stir-crazy with all that quiet. It even gets to me once in a while! Or it would, if I didn't live with Delia," he added in a quieter voice. BJ was really struggling not to guffaw, and Lydia elbowed him. "Did you get the pictures you needed for the assignment?"

"Unfortunately, not the ones they were hoping I'd get. The place they wanted me to photograph burned down," she replied. Well, that much was true. "But I learned a lot by talking with the people who live around there, so I think I can write an article about that and maybe it'll satisfy them."

"Well, even if not, at least they know about you and it might lead to more work in the future," Charles pointed out pleasantly. "But as long as you had a good time, that's the most important thing."

"Of course, Dad. We always have a good time. You had fun, didn't you, BJ?"

"Seeing the sights with you, Lyds? You know I love it. And I can _honestly_ say I've never slept so well in my life." She turned to give him a mock glare, and by way of response, he let his tongue - his real green and purple striped tongue - slither briefly out of the corner of his mouth.


	20. Before the Sun Sets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's one more thing...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I neglected to say it in the previous chapter, but special thanks to beta reader Clockwork Annie, who was the one to alert me to the existence of the salt mine amusement park.
> 
> The title doesn't really match the chapter but I was running out of ideas for chapter names, honestly. There's one more after this, but I've had that one picked out since the beginning.
> 
> I've never written from Donny's point of view until now; this will either be a good idea or a bad one. Let's find out.

Donny was, naturally, relieved to hear from Prince Vince following the incendiary situation at Owl Castle. "They had us on the edge of our seats for a while there, I must admit."

"Well, let's be honest - Brother always has had a fondness for the dramatic. Lydia's much the same way," he noted with a chuckle. "I'd bet dollars to doughnuts that once they knew they were safe, they started enjoying the performance!"

"My dear Donny, I haven't a doubt of it." The prince smiled, shaking his head. "In any case, Lydia asked me to get in touch and set your mind at ease about everything. They'll be making their way back to you in a few days, once they finish up whatever remains to be completed in Romania proper."

"I appreciate everything you've done for them, Vince. And also how you've kept me in the loop but out of danger."

"Don't forget, they're my family too, at least in some sense of the word," Vince pointed out. "There's no need to thank me - but you're welcome all the same."

* * *

He had to wait, with an almost uncharacteristic impatience that truthfully surprised him, while Charles collected the travelers from the airport. Donny felt almost like a puppy who had been left home alone for too long, wriggling anxiously as every passing moment brought him closer to seeing them again.

Finally the door opened, and with a rush of cold air and errant snowflakes, they stumbled across the threshold and dropped their bags with a sigh of relief. "Hi, Donny," Lydia greeted him. "We're back, and in one piece even."

"Welcome home!" Knowing how much his brother disliked any sort of display of affection (unless it came from Lydia or, occasionally, their mother), Donny contented himself with merely embracing his sister-in-law. "I'm so glad to see you both! Have you had a good time?"

"It was a trip I could really sink my teeth into," Lydia replied with a laugh. BJ snorted.

There was too much which could not be said in front of Charles, and he was clearly in no particular hurry to be away. So they sat around the kitchen table with steaming mugs of coffee, and Donny and Charles took turns peering at the images on Lydia's digital camera. The wintry fauna was beautiful and ethereal, the castle ruins strangely majestic despite their dilapidated state. "The magazine will be so disappointed," she remarked. "They sent me all that way to see this building and it was nothing but stone and ashes. It has some interesting legends around it, though, I'll do what I can to make a story out of that."

"If they don't buy the truth, maybe they would buy it as a work of fiction," Donny offered. "You could try your hand at storytelling."

"It's an option, definitely."

The last several pictures on the camera featured an amusement park, and Lydia explained that it was actually located underground, inside an abandoned salt mine. Charles was especially interested in these, which surprised Donny; Lydia's father didn't really come across as the sort of man who would willingly spend a lot of time around rides that were designed to induce nausea and high-pitched screaming. But then Charles reminded him of what Lydia had mentioned before she left - that he had persuaded himself that their destination was very different from what she had actually told him it was.

"I had no idea there were salt mines in Pennsylvania, pumpkin," Charles marveled. "And I never heard of one that was so big they could fit a theme park inside! It's incredible!" He paused, looking thoughtful. "That must be a marketing puzzle. What sort of mascot would you put in a salt theme park?"

"YouTube commenters," BJ muttered. "They're the saltiest characters you'll find anywhere."

* * *

Once Charles had reluctantly gone home, BJ resumed his usual form, and they were free to tell Donny about the rest of their adventure. "Prince Vince kept me pretty well informed," he explained, "enough that I was concerned - but I was sure you'd find a way out of it. He also insisted that I remain here so I'd be safe. How did you manage to get to Beetlejuice, Lydia?"

"Once I understood what I needed to do, it really wasn't too hard," she admitted. "Vince sent me a sonnet - his poetry really has improved, I have to say - and it contained clues that let me know I had Beetlejuice's magic. From there it was easy enough to put a spell on my yang pendant so it would help me find him."

"That's something I've been meaning to ask," Donny said. "It's happened a few times now, Beetlejuice's magic latches onto you. I know you always have a little of it, but how do you end up with the rest of it?"

"I asked the Fairy Godfather about that, because I was wondering myself," Lydia replied. "According to him, it's a subconscious act on Beej's part. His magic transfers itself to me as a means of protecting me when he's not able to do it himself. Like when Hugo's ritual in New Orleans went all wrong - I should have been killed for real, in a way that couldn't be undone. But because of the juice jumping into my body, we were able to reverse the situation. It was the same sort of thing here; the juice went to me because of Beetlejuice going into the enchanted sleep." She paused, then chuckled. "Suddenly I feel like some kind of storage unit."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far, Lyds," Beetlejuice interjected, looking amused. "But the F. G. says that the juice sort of has its own understanding about things. It's really me doing it, but I don't know I'm doing it until after it happens."

"Would the reverse ever happen?" Donny wondered. "Would Lydia's bit of your juice ever transfer itself to you?"

"I guess it could."

"Probably not," Lydia corrected him. "Unless I'm remembering the details wrong, the contract makes sure that it stays where it is. Otherwise, you might end up losing that piece of my humanity that you were given, and possibly the fabric of reality would start fraying."

"That might be fun to watch," Beetlejuice said with a grin. His wife didn't say anything, but she gave him a _look_ that even Donny understood.

* * *

With his hosts' permission, Donny decided to stick around for a week after their return from Romania, and in that time he began to suspect something was... not quite right.

Beetlejuice, in his human form, went back to work. Lydia did too, in her own way, but she was tired. A lot, in fact. "It's just jet lag," she said, when he asked.

"Jet lag?"

"A kind of tired that results from air travel," she explained. He and Beetlejuice had both died long before airplanes were invented, so he wasn't familiar with the effects; flight in the Neitherworld didn't cause such a thing. "It happens to humans sometimes, especially when they fly far - we went through several time zones."

At first, this explanation made sense. After a few days, however, he brought it up again. "Please don't think I'm interfering, sister, but I'm worried about you. I don't think jet lag should be lasting this long, and you don't seem like you're any better."

She made a funny sort of face. "Well, to be honest, I'm not feeling too great lately. My stomach's bothering me a lot - I'm not sick, exactly, just sort of achy and tired. I wonder if maybe I picked up some kind of bug in Romania."

"And Beetlejuice didn't eat it?"

Lydia chuckled. "Not that sort of bug," she clarified. "An illness, like a stomach virus or a cold or something like that. I'm dosing myself with rest and fluids, which is the usual sort of treatment. Lots of orange juice and chicken soup."

"Ah, orange juice - liquid sunshine itself! Bound to be the best thing for you in this cold weather!"

"That's what I'm thinking." To that end, she spent a lot of time on a chair by the fire or the wood stove, with a blanket across her knees and a book in her hands, resting and reading. As February melted into a less bitter March, she began to venture outside again, tending to her bird feeders and peering through the telescope her husband had given her. But she still occasionally massaged her stomach, still napped every afternoon, and if pressed would admit to cramps and a general sort of malaise.

Despite this, she was as cheerful as ever, and maybe that was the reason Beetlejuice seemed largely oblivious to her ailments. He lived with her continuously, after all, and that probably made it easier to overlook things. To Donny, life with Lydia was far more of a novelty, and that might have made him more observant. At least, that was how he explained it to himself.

* * *

"She's ill?"

Once he could no longer justify trespassing on his brother's hospitality, Donny returned to the Neitherworld, and his first act was to report to the prince for an in-person debriefing, as it were. Vince, naturally, was less than pleased to hear that his beloved Princess of Beetles was in anything less than perfect health.

"She insists it's nothing too serious, and Beetlejuice doesn't seem concerned at all," Donny assured him. "But before I left I asked her to please consider going to the doctor, now that the snow is starting to melt and the roads are more passable. If it were really as minor as she says it is, I would have thought she'd be over it by now."

"Hmm." Vince drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne. "What are her symptoms, exactly?"

"Stomach cramp, fatigue, occasional headache. At least, those were the only ones she would admit; there might have been others. The last day or so I was there, she was starting to be a little irritable too," Donny reported. "Not too terribly much - my brother calls her 'the sunshine of his afterlife' for a reason, you know! But small things seemed to bother her more than usual."

"Well, that sounds a bit unpleasant, but not too worrisome," the prince mused. "I'll try to persuade her to see a physician the next time I speak with her, as well. She did just have a very difficult ordeal, with her hunger strike and the emotional turmoil of being held captive; it may still be having some lingering effects."

"Maybe that's all it is!" said Donny, brightly. "That makes perfect sense. After everything she went through, she needs time to get back to her old self. You know, she couldn't really afford to be scared when it was all going on - she had to be brave, and angry, so that she could get through it. Now that it's over and she's safe, maybe she's letting her feelings catch up to her."

"An excellent point," Vince agreed. "Especially since she didn't know all the details until the very end. It must have been quite shocking to learn that Vasile intended to make her the mother of his half-vampire sons. I question whether he would even have waited for her consent on the matter." He shuddered. "Not that we would have allowed it to get that far, of course, but imagine what might have happened if we hadn't been privy to the situation!"

"Horrible." Donny shook his head. "I don't really want to think about it, if you don't mind. I'm so relieved it's all over!"

"As are we all - your brother most especially, I daresay. Magically induced sleep or not, I have little doubt that he would have found  _some_ way to put a stop to it, if all else had failed." The prince gave a small chuckle. "At least Lydia was clever enough to make Vasile believe she was already expecting; even without knowing his true intentions, she bought herself some much-needed time with that fabrication."

Donny smiled and nodded, and they both lapsed into a thoughtful silence. He was turning the whole adventure over in his mind, stringing the details together in a chain of events. And suddenly everything made a lot more sense, and he and Vince - clearly reaching the same conclusion at the same moment - stared at one another with wide, startled eyes.

" _Oh_."


	21. I Just Love Happy Endings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to guess that my readers figured out the same thing that Donny and Vince did at the end of the last chapter. This may be a somewhat predictable move on my part, but there is actually a point to it. (After all, remember the prophecy.)
> 
> How Lydia decides to bring her husband into the loop is revealed in this, the final chapter of the current arc. Many thanks to my fandom buddy Rach, who was the one to suggest this. I'll be taking a bit of a break from this series in order to try to work on some other projects for a bit, but rest assured that the next story - which has its roots in Snow White - is in progress and will start to be posted pretty soon. Meanwhile, thanks for reading and reviewing this one!

Lydia had balked, initially, at the idea of seeing the doctor. She protested that she was a little under the weather, she'd just picked up a bug in Romania, it was nothing serious. Beetlejuice had respected this; after all, he figured that the wife knew her own needs well enough. Donny, however, had been increasingly acting like a worrywart. Granted, this wasn't exactly out of character for his brother, but still.

By the time he'd gone home, Donny had managed to get Beetlejuice a little worried. He did have a point - they'd been back in New England for a few weeks now, and she didn't seem to be getting any better.

"Maybe he's right," he said carefully, not wanting to antagonize her. She was just a wee bit pricklier than usual, which was really only noticeable because Lydia was almost _never_ prickly. "I mean, it couldn't hurt to see a doc, could it? Just to be sure nothing's wrong."

She gave him a grumpy sort of look, which was hilarious on her normally placid features. "If I go to the doctor," she said in a forcibly even tone, "will you and your brother quit nagging me?"

"Hey, I ain't a nag!" He briefly transformed into an old horse, like the one they'd met in Tombstone all those years ago. " _This_ is a nag." Turning back into himself with a faint pop, he continued, "But yeah. You see the doc, she clears you for takeoff, I won't say another word."

"Fine."

Nothing more was said on the matter, but Lydia made an appointment which came and went, and she didn't have a whole lot to report once it was over. "I'm healthy," she said, "as far as the doctor can tell. I gave a blood sample and she's going to run a few tests just to make sure she's right about it all, but there's no reason for alarm."

"You sure?" Beetlejuice asked, before he could stop himself. She fixed him with a steely gaze, and he backed up a pace. "Just askin'!"

"Everything's fine," she insisted. Rather than chastise him for fussing, and maybe to remove the opportunity for him to fuss more, she changed the subject. "Our anniversary's coming up," she reminded him. "The old one, I mean - eleven years since the day we met. It's next week."

"Whaaat? No, it can't be. I distinctly remember, our anniversary was last year."

She laughed, which was what he wanted, and his grin was dripping with self-satisfaction. "Well, now that we've got two anniversaries to remember, I was thinking for the friendship anniversary we could just stay home and relax. I'll make something special for dinner. Then we'll do something bigger for the first wedding anniversary."

"Whatever you say, Babes." He folded his arms and leaned against the wall. "I ain't about to argue with your cooking."

* * *

He arrived home from work and inhaled deeply as he crossed the threshold. "Something smells incredible."

"Buns."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"There are buns in the oven. You know, cinnamon buns? For dessert?"

"Aw, Lyds, you haven't made those in ages!"

"Well, it's a special occasion."

"What's the main course?" he asked, mouth watering a bit.

"Baby back ribs."

His eyes widened. "Are you for real?"

"Well, I didn't make them. I'm just doing dessert - I'm having the main course catered." She eyed him in a way that made his insides feel somehow very twitchy. "You like the idea?"

"Uh, _yeah_. But I thought you were making dinner."

"I was planning on it, but I didn't feel well again today. It just made more sense to order them." She shrugged. Her tone was almost too casual. "The doctor's office called; all the blood work just confirmed what she already said. But I'm fine."

He watched her move around the kitchen, scratching his head. There was something just the littlest bit off about the whole thing, but he couldn't put his finger on it. "You all right, Babes?"

"Yeah, of course. I think I hear the delivery truck - go get the food, would you?"

It was a delicious meal, if an uneventful one, and the cinnamon buns were absolutely perfect. Beetlejuice, however, was still scratching his head (on the inside, though, not where anyone could see it).

_Something funny's going on. It feels like I'm trying to put together a puzzle and I'm missing one or two of the pieces. And I swear she's got 'em hidden in her camera bag or something._

"So... Wifey-Babes... whatcha wanna do tonight?" he asked, finishing his ribs. "It's supposed to be a rainy one - perfect weather for one of our film fests."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing," she replied, wiping her mouth. "A nice quiet night at home watching scary movies. I put a pile of DVDs on the coffee table. You go see if any of them catch your interest while I clean up."

That seemed a bit more like the usual Lydia, so he wandered into the living room to have a look at the selections. "All right, let's see here... _Rosemary's Baby... The Omen... The Good Son..._ Lyds, we've seen all these! You didn't even like _The Good Son_ , you kept complaining that all you could see was the aftershave scene from _Home Alone_." Grumbling, he continued to paw at the stack. " _Son of Dracula_ , that's a better one... oh, and _Frankenstein's Daughter_ , now that's some classic schlock. Much better."

"Well, what do you think?" Lydia inquired, joining him.

"Let's go with _Son of Dracula_ first. I know you like the vampires."

"Is... is that all you're thinking?"

"Huh?"

"Never mind." She shook her head. " _Son of Dracula_ it is."

* * *

She was sound asleep much later when Beetlejuice decided to wander downstairs and investigate the prospect of a midnight snack. "Pretty sure there's some cinnamon buns left in the fridge," he mused, opening the door. "Let's see here... almost outta milk... I'll take those leftover ribs for lunch tomorrow... bowl of baby carrots... sliced cheese... where'd she put the... _baby carrots_?"

He seized the bowl and stared at its contents, almost not believing his own eyes. "Wait a minute. Cinnamon buns in the oven, baby back ribs, those movies..." He sucked in a breath, spinning his head around and shrieking for a moment before reaching up to grab it. " _LYDIA!_ "

He vanished at once, reappearing in the bedroom with the bowl still in his hand, staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the figure in the bed. She was sitting up, rubbing her eyes and glaring. "What are you yelling about, Beej?" she muttered.

"Baby carrots!" He thrust the bowl at her, as though it contained all the mysteries of the universe (or at least those missing puzzle pieces he couldn't seem to find earlier). "Baby carrots!" he repeated. "Baby!"

"...seriously? _That's_ what tipped you off?"

"Are you kidding me, Babes? You mean to say that when you told Vasile -"

"No, when I told Vasile I was pregnant, it was a lie," she replied calmly, settling back against the pillows again. "It only became true later - and a good thing too, seeing what I went through while we were in his castle." Glancing down at her stomach, she chuckled. "Like I said, I apparently picked up a bug while we were in Romania. I was right about that. It just... wasn't the kind of bug I _thought_ I picked up."

Beetlejuice felt his expression relax from shock into one more like dopey fondness. "Daddy's little monster," he said after a moment. "Oh boy oh boy oh boy. This is gonna be _great_."

"It gets better." Lydia chuckled again. "I'm due the week of Halloween."

"Of course! What better day for my son to start terrorizing two worlds?" He cackled. "Oh, man, the Neitherworld is going to _freak_!"

She smiled blearily. "You know," she said, "last year when you gave me a surprise wedding for my birthday, I thought I would never manage to top that. But the way you're dancing around the room, I think I just did. Happy anniversary, Beej."

"Happy anniversary, Mommy-Babes." Beetlejuice paused, and then started to laugh, tumbling about in midair clutching his belly. "Oh, Lyds. You're gonna be a _mummy_!"

"...I'm going back to sleep now. You're an idiot."

"Yeah, and...?"

She sighed. "You're _my_ idiot."

"Damn right."

_~Fin~_


End file.
